


Time is an Illusion, Timing is an Art

by calculatingthestars



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Drama, Fame, Internalized Homophobia, Love, M/M, Romance, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculatingthestars/pseuds/calculatingthestars
Summary: When Javi pulls him close, it’s both the same and yet entirely different from any other competition where they’ve both placed. The closeness is there, the bittersweet feeling of victory and loss, Javi’s hand on the nape of his neck.They’ve shared the podium countless times before, and Yuzuru’s heart feels close to bursting every single time. It’s an inexplicable, unnameable feeling, one that sees the kindred spirit in his training partner, the piece of his soul that looks at Javi andrecognizeshim. It’s an emotion that Yuzuru never allows himself to feel in full, only sometimes acquiescing to the bits and pieces of affection that Javi so freely doles out.Skating comes first, because skatingalwayscomes first.
Relationships: Javier Fernández/Yuzuru Hanyu
Comments: 176
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**YUZURU.**

There’s a certain shamelessness that comes with being an athlete of Yuzuru Hanyu’s caliber, what with some of his arguably most vulnerable moments being plastered all over the news. Where months of training culminate in the sobbing vindication of completing a perfect skate or, worse, the utter humiliation of sitting at the kiss and cry after a rough fall.

Yuzuru is used to it. After his incredibly honest (and extremely embarrassing) reaction at his Cup of China scores, he thinks that there is nothing that the media can say that will penetrate the armor he’s built around himself. He’s given everything he has to the ice for the whole world to see, and the media reports in kind.

And then Pyeongchang happens.

When Javi pulls him close, it’s both the same and yet entirely different from any other competition where they’ve both placed. The closeness is there, the bittersweet feeling of victory and loss, Javi’s hand on the nape of his neck.

They’ve shared the podium countless times before, and Yuzuru’s heart feels close to bursting every single time. It’s an inexplicable, unnameable feeling, one that sees the kindred spirit in his training partner, the piece of his soul that looks at Javi and _recognizes_ him. It’s an emotion that Yuzuru never allows himself to feel in full, only sometimes acquiescing to the bits and pieces of affection that Javi so freely doles out.

Skating comes first, because skating always comes first.

But here, basking in the bright lights of the arena and the gold medal that he’s just won, Yuzu thinks, not for the first time: _I could do this with him, for the rest of my life, and not regret a single thing._

Maybe it’s the Olympics that gives him courage or just the high of winning, but either way, Yuzuru takes a breath, opens his mouth to tell Javier… something. _Anything._

But Javi beats him to it.

“It was my honor to skate with you here,” he says, his eyes suspiciously bright. “This is my last Olympics, Yuzu. I’m retiring.”

***

Later, as Yuzuru obsessively watches the huddle of their bodies from every news outlet that has cared to put it up, he finds that he doesn’t feel a single shred of embarrassment.

He watches himself burst into tears, barely listening as the reporter speculates about what has overwhelmed him so. Javi-on-camera pulls him into an embrace and Yuzu crumples into his arms, hiding his face in his partner’s chest.

He watches it once, twice, a dozen times, stomach churning, his fingernails digging into his own thigh.

No, what he’s feeling now isn’t embarrassment.

It’s _regret_.

***

Yuzuru has given up his life to skating, to the constant chase of that one perfect skate, forever out of reach. Not once has he regretted doing so, not even when the doctors told him that surgery wouldn’t help his ankle because there was nothing left to hold onto.

Not when he performed at the Cup of China, bleeding from the chin, bandages wrapped around his head, so dizzy he could barely see straight.

He has never regretted giving his life up to the ice…

Until now.

“Yuzu? Is something wrong?” He snaps out of his daze to find warm brown eyes looking into his, Javi’s concerned tone breaking the silence of the hallway.

Yuzu suddenly becomes aware that his hand is still poised in mid-knock, that he’d just made his way down four levels to the floor that Italy is sharing with Spain. He lets his hand fall down to his side, biting his lip.

It’s late, far too late to be wandering around the Olympic village rooms, and on any other night, Yuzuru would never even have contemplated doing this.

“I just--” he pauses, trying to clear the cobwebs that have apparently reduced his English to a dozen words. “Want to see Javi.”

To his credit, Javier hesitates only slightly before pushing open his door the rest of the way. “Come inside,” he says. “Felipe’s out, and I’m pretty sure he’s not coming back any time soon.” The other Spanish skater hadn’t placed high enough to even perform his free skate, and had subsequently spent the remainder of the games soaking up the ‘atmosphere’.

Yuzu nods, following Javi into his small kitchenette. All of the apartments look the same, though Javi’s space looks quite a bit more lived in than Yuzu’s. He perches on the stool at the counter as Javier boils water, giving him a vague half-smile as he drops a tea bag into a mug.

“Are you all right?” Javier asks, taking the stool next to him. “You seemed… really sad. Earlier.” He shifts awkwardly as Yuzu gives him a pained look.

“I really am sorry about telling you right before the medal ceremony. I should have waited, but I didn’t know if we would have the chance to talk again before...” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

Yuzuru wraps his hands around his mug, breathing in steam and trying to find the words he wanted to say. “ _When_ you tell me… It not matter more than _what_ you tell me,” he says. “Understand?”

Without waiting for Javier to respond, he takes a breath, forces himself to continue. “I said before, I can’t do without you,” he says. “I mean it. Even when we do not compete in same place, I think about Javi. I come to Toronto because I want to learn your quadsal. I stay because I feel--” Here, his voice grows strained, hoarse. “Javi pushes me to be better. Do better. Always. But not like others. Not like Patrick Chan. I want to beat Patrick Chan, but Javi… I want to--”

He clenches his hands into fists. “I would share gold with Javi, if ISU let me.” It’s the highest compliment he’s ever given anyone, the most important relationship in his life. His family has been nothing but supportive, but even they will never fully understand what skating means to Yuzuru. Not like Javi does.

Javier listens quietly, attentively, and at the last he ducks his head, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. “I know that,” he says finally. “And I’m so honored, Yuzu, I can’t tell you how proud I am that the best skater in the world thinks of me as his equal. For what it’s worth, training with you pushed me to be the best skater I ever dreamed I could be.”

“So Javi does not retire,” Yuzuru suggests, hopeful. “Javi can still skate well, get even better. We make each other better, keep skating until you need to retire. Yes?” His words are light, but there is desperation there, too.

On impulse, he reaches out to take Javi’s hands in his. _I need you,_ he thinks. _Please stay. I need you._

Javier allows the touch, even returns the pressure with the strength of his own grip. But his answering smile is tight. “Yuzu…” he says. “I want to end on a high note. Do you understand? I medalled at the Olympics, and in January I’m going to try for my seventh European title, and then that will be it. I don’t want to skate until I _have_ to leave. I don’t want to skate until I’m so injured that I can’t get up after a fall. I don’t want to be like--” his voice catches. “ _Plushenko._ ”

A tremor goes through Yuzuru. Nothing had made him happier than the prospect of sharing the ice with Evgeni at Socchi, but he couldn’t deny that the disastrous pull-out of his skating hero had shaken him to the core. All the injuries, all the surgeries… at thirty-two, he would have been at the prime of his life in any other venture, but as a competition skater, he was done.

Yuzu can see in Javi’s eyes what he really means, can feel the ghost ache of his own ankle. “You mean you not want to be like _me_ ,” it comes out as a whisper.

To his credit, Javier doesn’t insult him by denying it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I want you to be happy, Yuzu. And right now you still have so many good years ahead of you. You’re still the best, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. But we both know that you’re going to compete until your body can’t take it anymore, and I-- that’s not my life. I don’t _want_ that to be my life.”

It _hurts_.

More than any fall, any injury… hell, it hurts even more than his ankle did.

It’s honesty at its most brutal, and Yuzu doesn’t know whether he has the strength to recover from it. So he takes one breath, then another, tells himself that he can work past the pain, and gives Javi’s fingers one final squeeze.

And then he lets go.

“I understand,” he says. “But I want Javi to know why I had to try.” Yuzu tries for a smile and it ends up more like a grimace, getting to his feet. Javi’s still looking at him with those big brown eyes of his, warm and kind, tinged with grief.

“I’m going to miss you too, my friend,” Javier says quietly. His chin is tilted up for once, still seated as he looks up at the younger man.

Yuzuru takes a step closer.

It doesn’t take very much at all to bridge that small distance between them, and Javi accepts the gesture with a practiced ease that makes Yuzu’s heart ache. The embrace is firm, solid, but this time it’s Javi’s cheek pressed against Yuzu’s throat, Yuzuru the one leaning down to wrap his arms around him.

“I miss Javi, too,” Yuzuru says, fingers warm against the nape of the other’s neck. “Always.”

There’s no space between their bodies, pressed tightly as they are against each other. Yuzu has stepped between Javier’s legs and when he pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes, what he sees there gives him the courage to take one more step into the unknown.

He bends down to capture Javi’s mouth in a kiss, soft and fitted, and it feels _right_ in a way that doing this with other men never has. He feels a shudder go through Javi’s body as their mouths meet, but he only pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around Yuzu’s waist.

They kiss for what seems like a small eternity, holding each other close, suspended in time. It brings home every single thought that Yuzu has ever had about Javi, stitches together a tapestry of understanding that is now impossible to ignore. Yuzuru is in love with him, maybe had been for years, and the realization comes like a punch in the gut, a desperate fire lit inside of him.

They kiss until Yuzuru manages to take whatever remaining shreds of self-preservation he has left, and pulls back. His palm cradles Javi’s cheek, taking in the dilated pupils, the red of his mouth.

“Thank you,” Yuzu says, voice breaking. “For everything.” And then he’s stepping away even farther, the cold air seeping in as he loses the warmth of Javier’s body.

“Yuzu--” Javi’s voice is hoarse, tight with confusion, but Yuzuru can be selfish, too. Maybe he also wants to end on a high note, to remember one perfect kiss with the man that he now understands that he’s in love with.

“Wait. Can’t we…?”

Yuzuru palms the door knob and forces himself to walk out, unwilling to go further than they already have. He doesn’t think he’d survive it, if they did.

“Goodbye, Javi.”

The door shuts with an air of finality, and Yuzuru Hanyu gets on with the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything in forever, but I had so many emotions about the 2020 EC because Javier wasn't in it for the first time since his retirement. This fic was born from the idea that Yuzuru didn't want him to retire either, and grew from there. I have 4 chapters in total planned, and while this first chapter is incredibly angsty, you can believe I have the happiest ending possible planned. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**JAVIER.**

The kiss, when it comes, is entirely unexpected.

It’s the last thing that Javier expects when he opens his door to find a distraught Yuzuru, an unnamed tension hanging heavy between them.

Yuzuru is straight. He had said as much in interviews, and until Yuzu had kissed him, Javi had been pretty sure that he himself was, too. If their touches linger a tad too long or if the smiles that Yuzu gives him are especially soft, Javi chalks it up to their closeness, their friendship, and the occasional high of their sport.

But no amount of cultural exception or athletic high can mistake the _kiss_ that Yuzuru gives him, the kiss that Javi finds himself returning with a desperation that surprises even himself.

Yuzu tastes like tea, even though Javi can’t remember him doing anything but fidget with the cup that he’d made, and he realizes with a start that he now knows what his training partner’s _tongue_ tastes like, and isn’t that just _great_?

But even as the hysteria threatens to seep in, Javi finds that he can’t quite make himself let go of Yuzu’s waist, even going so far as to hold him _tighter._ There’s no space between their bodies now, pressed against each other as they are, and _dios mio_ , Javi can actually feel the first stirrings of arousal and he’s pretty damned sure that _that’s_ never happened before.

For all his inner turmoil, however, it’s Yuzuru that pulls away first, face flushed and chest rising in an erratic rhythm. Javi would’ve been worried about his asthma if he hadn’t known what they’d just been doing, and vaguely he wonders if he looks just as wrecked as the other man.

“Thank you. For everything.”

_Wait, what?_

Apparently, Javi’s mouth is working just as well as his brain is, which is to say, not at all. He manages to stammer out a few words that do _nothing_ to stop his friend from walking out the door, and he finds that he’s still staring at it long after Yuzuru has pushed it closed.

A better man would have gotten to his feet and run after him, perhaps even assured him of their unchanged friendship. _You know I don’t swing that way_ , Javi can almost hear himself saying. _But I’ m so flattered that you even considered me._

In his mind’s eye, Yuzu is awkward but not terribly upset; Javi leans in for a hug, and nothing changes. Javier can see them at the gala, up to their typical antics, playfully teasing each other as amused onlookers watch.

They joke, they laugh, and then they leave Pyeongchang and get on with their lives.

In another world.

What _actually_ happens couldn’t be farther from the truth.

In reality, Javier spends the gala as far away from Yuzu as he can possibly get. The younger man barely says two words to him, and only in the company of others, an unspoken request for distance that Javi is only too happy to comply with.

Javier has never thought of himself as homophobic, but there is a vast difference between happily accepting a gay family member or friend, and suddenly realizing that you yourself might be. His sexuality is as much a part of himself as his skating, and to suddenly be confronted with such uncertainty destroys his equilibrium.

He finds himself eyeing some of the other male skaters at one point, trying to see if he feels anything at all. As luck would have it, Shoma skates up to his place by the sidelines just as Javi surreptitiously checks Bruno Massot out. The younger man gives him a _look_ , inclining his head at Yuzuru at the far corner of the rink before glancing back at Javi.

Despite their lack of common language, his meaning is clear: _asshole._

Javier is mortified, but before he can open his mouth to explain himself, Shoma has already skated away in a judgmental huff.

Javi turns away to face the empty stands instead, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor. And the hell of it is… he’d felt absolutely nothing at all during his little experiment. He hadn’t felt the tell-tale pull of attraction that he experiences when admiring a pretty girl, his gaze drawn to a full bust or a nice pair of legs. The pairs skater is just… a _guy_. Good-looking, if Javi studies him objectively, and obviously a great skater. But beyond that… nothing.

Javi takes a breath, nodding to himself. So maybe it’s not what he thought last night. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of winning mixed with the disbelieving pride that comes with being on Yuzu’s radar in _anything_. Maybe…

He turns around again, facing the ice. He doesn’t even have to look for Yuzu amongst the other skaters, he just automatically _finds_ him, gaze falling on him almost immediately. He’s talking with Shoma on the far side of the rink, one hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the other braced on his own hip. He has a vague half-smile on his face, clearly distracted but trying to be polite.

After spending most of the practice avoiding Yuzu, Javier can’t help but drink in the sight of him. From this distance, he can look without much fear of being caught, can study the lines of his body and the tilt of his chin.

 _Beautiful_. The thought comes to him, unbidden, affection rising in his chest even as Yuzu’s inattention causes Shoma to roll his eyes and skate away. The feeling of fondness that springs up is familiar, the accompanying _warmth_ less so. Javi finds his gaze falling on Yuzuru’s lips, the pressure-memory of his mouth making him _flush_.

Across the ice, Yuzuru looks up, eyes widening as he realizes that Javi is staring.

He knows that he should do something, look away or perhaps even wave, however stupid that makes him seem, but instead Javi only continues to stare, mesmerized, as if the only person on that sheet of ice is _him_.

Maybe it is.

The moment stretches, impossibly long, until Yuzu visibly shakes himself, a look of determination crossing his features. Javi holds his breath as the younger man pushes off, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Yuzu is skating towards him, looking to face what had happened between them last night.

Javi’s pulse quickens, fingers trembling as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The _answer_ is on his lips, pushing up from his throat, rising from his chest, but Javier grinds it ruthlessly between his _teeth_.

One of the girls inadvertently slides into Yuzu’s path, laughing an apology before whirling away, and in the moment that their eyes break contact, Javier leaves.

 _Coward_.

***

By the time Yuzuru takes the ice for his solo performance, Javier is a mess.

He’d managed to hold it together for his own skate, summoning every ounce of professionalism he had in him. To his credit, he had skated his comedic, upbeat program well. It had been designed to showcase his showmanship, succeeding in sharing his joy at having earned a spot on the Olympic stage.

The crowd had loved it, his fellow skaters had clapped along, but through it all Javier had felt as if his smile had just been painted on.

By the time Shoma wraps up his own skate, Javier has managed to secure himself a secluded spot near the shadows of the performers entrance. Coward he may be, but he still wants to see Yuzu skate.

The younger man had been subdued all night, and while Javi doesn’t want to flatter himself by thinking that it had been due to their spoiled run-in earlier, he can’t help but feel guilty. He doesn’t want to cause Yuzu further pain, any more than he wants to spend his final Olympics as a bundle of uncertainty, but Javier’s not ready to talk about this yet and he knows it.

So when Yuzuru had walked past him, head held high, all Javi had done was smile, soft and encouraging. “Ganbatte, Yuzu.”

For a moment it seemed like Yuzu hadn’t heard him, and Javi had been fine with that. With the world watching and cheering, surely a single voice would not matter to the Japanese skater.

But then Yuzuru had nodded. He hadn’t turned his head or made eye contact, but his soft reply had been unmistakable. “Thank you, Javi.”

The simple words had been enough to cause Javi’s chest to ache, the unpleasant heaviness that had followed him since their practice session now blooming into an outright _sting._ It’s a reminder of how much had changed between them in such a short span of time, words that he’d uttered countless times before now laden with heavier meaning.

It hurts because a friendship that Javi holds so dearly is _over_ \-- changed beyond repair, if the tension between them is any indication-- and he can’t do a thing about it.

The attraction isn’t surprising anymore, but the grief… the grief is _new_.

Javi’s hands clench and unclench, and he’s almost tempted to shrink back, to retreat completely into the changing rooms. He’s not in the right mind, unbalanced and off-kilter, his entire world threatening to tilt off its axis. The smart thing to do would be to leave, take stock of himself in private, but deep down Javi knows that he can’t do that. He _wants_ to see Yuzu’s moment of glory, to see him soak up every bit of admiration that he’s earned.

And so he waits, watches as Yuzuru’s graceful form traverses the ice, taking his place at center stage. A lone spotlight bathes him in pale light and Javier can barely breathe; _he’s so beautiful._

Yuzu lifts his chin and unerringly finds Javi in the darkness, features somber but resolute, almost as if to say: _watch me_.

Then the faint first strains of Notte Stellata come through the speakers, and Yuzuru begins to skate.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Ignoring Javier proves impossible.

Not that Yuzuru had planned to cut him out of his life-- that’s both impossible and unfair. But Yuzu _had_ intended to close the chapter of his romantic interest in his friend decisively. He had been given his answer the other night, and surely the only way to move forward is to _forget_.

He tries to keep his distance during the gala practice, knowing that they would both need time to get over his declaration. He expects Javi to be cold but hopes that he won’t be. Upon reflection, Yuzuru is embarrassed about laying his feelings on his unsuspecting friend so candidly, and he needs time to lick his own wounds.

As it turns out, however, there’s hardly any need to worry: Yuzuru succeeds in keeping his distance for most of practice, but then he looks up and catches Javi staring at him with an expression best suited on a kicked puppy.

The longing on his face is palpable, even across the length of the rink, and for a moment Yuzu feels a flash of annoyance: the way Javi is acting, one would think that _he_ had been the one to offer his heart and then subsequently been handed it _back_.

Even as he thinks it, though, the thought morphs into something closer to _hope._ Perhaps Javi had simply needed time to sort his own feelings out, and had now reconsidered Yuzuru’s request. Perhaps he wouldn’t retire after all. Perhaps he might give them a chance. _Perhaps..._

It is this thought that propels him forward, pushing off from the ice and heading towards Javier. If there’s a chance that he’s changed his mind, Yuzu needs to know. He glides effortlessly across the ice, gaze fixed on Javi’s face.

_Maybe now, they could--_

A soft giggle beside Yuzu distracts him momentarily, and he pauses as Evgenia brushes past with an apologetic smile. She’s practicing her choreography and has the right of way, and he accepts the gesture with his own small grin.

By the time he turns back to Javi, though, the other man is gone. In confusion, Yuzu looks around, but the only view he gets of his partner is the back of his jacket as he practically runs off the ice.

Had Yuzuru been any other man, he would have sworn then, loudly and explicitly _._ _What the hell was that all about?_ But Yuzuru hasn’t reached the highest echelons of skating without being in control of himself, and so he only grits his teeth and forces his expression into something approaching neutrality.

Jaw set, he turns around and skates back to the rest of the group.

***

By the time the actual gala comes around, Yuzuru is more or less composed. He hasn’t seen Javier since practice and he narrows his focus to his performance with practiced efficiency.

How many times has he skated through pain? Whether sickness or physical injury, Yuzu has always managed to push through it. Indeed, every time his colleagues ask him to join them for a break or a quick bite, Yuzu always demurs; loneliness is also a kind of pain, after all, and Yuzu feels it just as acutely as anyone.

The difference between him and everyone else is not that he doesn’t _feel_ pain, it’s that he takes it and turn it into something useful.

He holds this thought as the cold air of the rink hits him, moving past the double doors and letting the frozen air wake him up. Yet another reminder that throughout everything, the ice is always there for him.

Constant. Invaluable.

He makes his way to the lip of the rink, rolling his shoulders, his attention entirely on his upcoming performance. The dull roar of the crowd fades to white noise, all his focus on waiting for his cue to take the ice.

“ _Ganbatte, Yuzu.”_

It’s a testament to his control that the soft voice behind him doesn’t make him turn around. For all his vaunted discipline, it’s his first instinct to do so, back going rigid in an effort to stay where he is.

Yuzu doesn’t want to answer, trying to dismiss Javi’s soft words as unimportant, but in the end he can’t help himself.

“Thank you, Javi,” he says finally, nodding. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t trust himself to look at the other man’s face. His entire life has hinged on his control, on his complete mastery over his body and his discipline, and it frightens him how much Javi affects him. Even now, he’s afraid to turn because he has a horrible feeling that if he does, he’ll end up like one of those sad characters in the dramas that his mother watches, pining over someone who’ll never love him back.

Javi may not be the type to shut him down coldly, but it’s obvious to Yuzuru that he doesn’t feel the same way. He had been foolish to think otherwise at practice; Javi had probably just been hurt that he’d kept his distance, and Yuzu had read far too much into it.

He closes his eyes briefly, willing himself to clear his mind. Only the ice should matter now, and his world narrows into the flat white rectangle that lays before him.

Applause fills his ears; Shoma takes his last bows.

A handful of moments later and Yuzu is gliding across the ice, taking a lap before he finds his place in the middle of the rink. His heart is full and he allows himself to take pride in the hard work, the sacrifices that have brought him here, gratitude resting heavily in his chest.

He doesn’t mean to, but his eyes find Javi in the darkness.

The moment is singular, _electric_. Yuzu wants to cry-- _why can’t he dismiss_ _him_ _?_ \-- but the feelings are there and in that moment it crystallizes: he may not be able to remove them, but perhaps he can _use_ them.

Then the music plays, and Yuzuru begins.

He had not initially chosen to skate to _Notte Stellata_ because of his feelings for Javi. Hell, he hadn’t even really admitted to himself how he’d felt about the other man until recently, and certainly hadn’t known at the time he’d picked the song.

In point of fact, Yuzu hadn’t understood the lyrics when he’d first come across it, but the clear emotion in the singer’s voice had caused him to tear up. _That_ had been the moment he’d known that he’d wanted to skate to it-- borne of a desire to match the emotions expressed, an eagerness to cross the barriers of language that he so often struggled with.

Looking up the translation afterwards had merely cemented his decision.

That said, even if the program had not been created whilst thinking about Javi, this performance is sure as hell about him _now_.

Because Notte Stellata is unequivocally a love song, full of longing and promise, every bit a declaration of love even as it is now tinged with his own melancholy.

Yuzuru skates his heart, leaving everything on the ice that night. Every breathless emotion that he has ever felt, the love, the pain, the heartache… all laid bare for the world to see. Each motion of his arms is pure grace, each slide on the ice elegance incarnate. Yuzuru is one with the music, feels it permeate through his bones.

He has never felt so exposed, even as he has never felt so _free_.

The entire audience is mesmerized, completely silent as hundreds of people watch him, and through it all, Yuzuru can only think of _him_.

‘ _Io t'amo sai’_

 _(_ _I love you, you know..._ _)_

It doesn’t matter that Javi doesn’t feel the same way. It doesn’t take away from what Yuzu feels, it doesn’t make his love any _less_.

He skates with everything he has, with all that he is, and with the Notte Stellata, he says _goodbye_.

The moment the song fades, the applause is thunderous.

A perfect skate.

Yuzuru had never thought he’d achieve it during his lifetime, always finding some small detail to obsess over and nitpick after the fact, but he doesn’t need to wait for the video playback to know that he had been perfect.

He finds himself trembling as he takes his final bows, barely managing to blink back the tears that threaten to fall. He feels wrung out but deeply satisfied, drained of everything he has but content nonetheless.

It’s over.

It’s over, and as Yuzu slowly comes down from his high, he moves towards the gate, fully expecting Javi to be gone.

He isn’t.

Yuzu takes his guards and slips them on, taking the murmured congratulations from the next skaters with grace. But his eyes, through it all, are only on Javi. As if he’s afraid that if he blinks, Javi will disappear again, but this time the other man shows no indication of running.

And so Yuzu makes his way towards him, stepping into the shadows of the overhang above. Even in the dim light, he can see that Javi’s face is _wet_.

Yuzu reaches out, skims his fingertips down the other’s cheek, tracing the path of _salt_. “These are for me.”

It isn’t a question, but Javi nods anyway.

“Because you want me, too.”

There’s a brief eternity before he gets another nod-- slower this time, more deliberate-- and Yuzuru feels something inside of him uncoil. As if he’d been holding his breath his entire life and is only now allowed to breathe, warmth and an almost unbearable joy lighting him up from within.

Yuzu’s hand is still cupping his chin, and he brushes his thumb against Javi’s full lower lip. He would have kissed him if they weren’t in the middle of the gala, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Javi would have let him. Hell, judging by the way that the other man is turning into his touch, even _with_ the gala in full swing, Javi _still_ might have allowed it.

The thought makes his heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest, and Yuzu finds himself thinking, rather hysterically, that he deserves another medal for the effort that it takes to restrain himself.

There’s a brief moment when he spares a thought to a counter-argument: where the cold reality of homosexuality and the ISU douses him in doubt, where he thinks about distractions and discipline and how carrying on with his training partner probably wouldn’t be the smartest move to make if he wants to defend all of his titles.

But even as he thinks it, he knows that he’s fighting a losing battle. He’d lost the moment he’d stepped off the ice to find Javi’s eyes on him, or perhaps even before that. When Javi had kissed him _back_.

Yuzu feels like someone else when he leans forward, putting his arms around Javi’s neck in a loose embrace. To anyone else, it’s just them being _them_ , but Yuzu can feel Javier’s frame go rigid at his touch, right before completely relaxing.

His lips are against Javi’s ear.

“Tonight,” he whispers. “I will go to your room. If you want, leave the door unlocked.”

He pulls back just enough to look into Javi’s eyes, enough to see the understanding dawn.

He nods once, sharply, and lets go.

Yuzu has made his decision; now it’s Javi’s turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally don’t include YouTube videos because I figure you guys have already seen all of them, but honestly, watching Notte Stellata in tandem with reading this fic was how I intended it. I lost count of how many times I watched this while writing. XD  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gRoIy0YWQo 
> 
> And, for good measure, Notte Stellata with the English translation. The lyrics wrecked me, honestly.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kraOWWYNxxo
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated and help motivate me to write! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes usually go after, but I had to give a heads up: I had to up the rating to E for this chapter. Please make sure you’re comfortable with this before proceeding. :)

**JAVIER.**

It takes almost no coaxing at all to get Felipe out of their room that night, and Javi doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not. The other Spaniard had apparently been spending quite a bit of time with a member of the German delegation, and is all too happy to find an excuse to seek refuge in her room.

“Have fun,” Felipe says as he shoulders his duffel. “But not too much fun, yes?”

Javi manages a weak grin, waving him away. He’s been sick to his stomach since the gala, nerves frayed to hell, but he knows that there’s never been any other answer to Yuzu’s question. He _wants_ this, he does, but it’s so new and fragile that he’s barely even begun to grasp the concept of it.

A handful of days, that’s all they get, and Javi knows that if he doesn’t do this right, there will be no other chances left. Their lives are moving in opposite directions and everything is going too far, too fast, but he also knows that he’d rather be too early than too late. Too late isn’t an option, not with Yuzu.

The door slams and Javi looks up, blinking. Felipe has finally left, the room already seeming colder without him. He clenches his hands into fists and closes his eyes, breathing deeply, evenly, imagining himself on the biggest stadium in the world, and wills himself to _relax_.

Inside the bathroom, he looks into the mirror. “It’s only Yuzu,” he tells himself. “It’s going to be okay.”

He tries a smile; he almost believes it.

Afterwards, Javi steps out of the shower and wraps a towel at his waist. He thumbs at his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble, and wonders if he should shave. His face flushes as he thinks about what they might do tonight, the red tinging his cheeks having nothing to do with the lingering steam.

“Javi?” a soft voice calls from the bedroom, and Javi drops his razor in surprise.

“In-- in the bath,” he responds, scooping up the razor from the sink and shoving it back on the counter. “Sorry, just, give me a minute, please.”

To his credit, Yuzu doesn’t push, simply waits quietly while Javi casts about for his clothing. Clothing that is conspicuously absent from the hook inside the bathroom, as Javi had apparently ( _stupidly_ ) laid out his t-shirt and joggers on the bed.

A bed that Yuzu is currently sitting on.

 _Mierda_. Even a blind man couldn’t have mistaken the meaning behind Yuzuru inviting himself over that night, but it’s one thing to agree to it and another thing to meet his guest practically naked. _Get a grip_ , Javi tells himself, _you’ve seen each other_ actually _naked plenty of times._

 _But not like this_ , answers the voice in his head. _Not when you’re about to--_

He hastily shuts that line of thinking down as quickly as it comes, steeling himself as he peers out from behind the bathroom door.

“Hey,” he says, waving awkwardly. “Sorry. My clothes are...”

Yuzu tilts his head, and Javi’s eyes fall on the long line of his throat. His hair is still a little damp from his own shower, dressed in clothing not unlike the sweats Javi had laid out to wear himself.

“It’s okay,” Yuzu says quietly. “Maybe… no need to put them on?”

He’s sitting on the edge of Javi’s bed, hands folded neatly on his lap, and whatever he sees in Javi’s eyes makes him smile, tender and almost shy. He holds out one hand, palm up, every bit as graceful as he had been during his performance.

“Come?”

A beat passes, and then Javi steps fully into the bedroom, crossing the small distance between them and taking his hand. Yuzuru’s thumb brushes against his wrist, as if taking his pulse, and a shiver goes down his spine, as nervous as he had been as a teenager.

“I’ve never done this before,” Javi says, ducking his head. “Not with another man. I’ve never really thought about it until--” He shrugs self-consciously, and Yuzu nods.

“I have, with other men, but not--” he pauses, says something in Japanese, frustration creasing his features as the right word eludes him. “Not like this. Not with someone like Javi. Someone I--” _Daisuki_. “Really like.”

“This means… something,” Yuzu continues. “Because Javi is so important to me. I want--” His thumb rubs against Javi’s pulse point again, a helpless gesture. “I want to be with you.”

He says it like it’s a fact, the same way Javi has heard him say that he’s going to the Olympics to win the gold, or the way that he says he’ll master the quad axel someday. Things are so complicated with Yuzu, but they can also be so very, very simple.

“I want to be with you, too,” Javi says softly, and bends down to kiss him.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Things progress fairly quickly after that.

For all his admitted ignorance, Javi is a very fast learner, and it doesn’t take much time at all before his towel ends up tossed over the lamp and Yuzu’s track pants are shoved down to one ankle.

At twenty-three, Yuzuru’s handful of past sexual encounters had been almost clinical affairs, unfailingly polite and exceedingly perfunctory. He had never meant for them to turn out that way, of course; even after all is said and done, he’s simply not the sort who would purposely use another person like that.

No, his sexual partners had started off promising enough. The first had been a young Canadian journalist who, after his article had been published, had screwed up his nerve and asked Yuzuru out. Yuzu had been flattered and, moreso, tired of being a virgin, and had agreed to see him.

The date had ended with them going back to the journalist’s apartment and having sex, and while Matt had been sweet, Yuzu had politely turned down further requests to see him after that. The sex had been pleasant but unremarkable-- certainly not the earth-shattering stuff of locker room conversations-- and the cold truth had simply been that attempting a relationship would disrupt the delicate balance of his life, and Yuzu simply couldn’t have that.

His other two affairs had been of a similar nature; men that he had met in the periphery (a photographer at a commercial shoot, his liaison during a brand endorsement), and had been pleasant dalliances whilst their lives overlapped but short-lived thereafter.

Perhaps if any real connection could have happened, it would have been with a fellow skater, but he had once overheard Johnny cheerfully admonishing Stephane to ‘never shit where you eat’ and, after looking up exactly what he’d meant, Yuzu had taken the advice to heart.

Over the years, he had been asked out by some of his fellow skaters, but Yuzuru had always turned them down. He had liked the easy, shallow friendships he had with the others, and he’d never wanted to complicate his craft in that way.

It hadn’t been until he had realized what he’d felt for Javi that Yuzu actually started examining his behavior with more thought. He’d worried that he was cold, once, had wondered why he couldn’t muster the desire to adjust his schedule to accommodate another date with Matt, or to even entertain the possibility when Scott asked him out.

 _Ice prince_. The nickname is usually meant as a compliment, but Yuzu sometimes wonders if it isn’t meant as a jibe, as well. After all, he never goes out, never really connects with their fellow skaters the same way Javi does. Does everyone really think he doesn’t care about anything but the ice?

It isn’t until his second Olympic gold is hanging heavily around his neck that he realizes it. He hadn’t cared to make allowances for the others because he hadn’t cared about the others, period.

After all, now is hardly an ideal time to start a relationship. Yuzuru has commitments, and they’ll only magnify tenfold after his win in Pyeongchang. But not only does he find that his responsibilities are more flexible than he thought, he finds that he doesn’t even think twice about whether or not Javi is worth moving them _for_.

Because with Javi... he _care_ _s_.

 _My god_ , does he care.

He’d thought that he could move on after they’d first kissed, but a single look had sent him running back to Javi as if pulled in by gravity itself. How helpless he’d been in the face of Javi’s tears, tracing their path in the dim light, a secret that had belonged only to them.

“Yuzu...” The other man’s voice is thick with lust, and the thought that Yuzu is the cause of it makes him shudder, arching up in Javi’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing him again long and fierce. Javi is resting between his legs and they’re pressed together so impossibly close, his length pressed hot and hard against the apex of his thighs. It feels so good and they haven’t even really _done_ anything yet; Yuzu feels like he’s going out of his mind, like he wants to crawl out of his own skin, he _wants_ him so god damned much.

He utters a soft curse in his own language, bracing his hands on Javi’s chest and pushing until their mouths separate. Javi is panting, lips shining red and wet, and for a split second, Yuzu wants nothing more than to pull him back down.

“Is everything okay?” Javi asks, eyes going wide. “Did I--?”

“My pants,” says Yuzu, twisting around so that he can root for them at the far end of the bed. His fingers find purchase and he pulls them up, reaching into the pockets.

“Why do you need your…?” Javi trails off as Yuzu tosses his track pants aside, revealing the string of condoms and the tube of lubricant that he’s fished out of them. “ _Oh._ ”

He swallows hard; Yuzu can see his throat bob, and he reaches for the nape of his neck and pulls him close. “It’s okay if you don’t want,” he says, kissing his cheek. “It’s only here if--” He shrugs, self-conscious. “In case you want to.”

Javi bites his lip, a crease forming momentarily between his brows before smoothing out. “I want to,” he says. “I want _you_.”

The simple words are enough to make Yuzu’s chest ache in the best way possible, and he closes the last bit of distance between them with a kiss, soft and fitted and so impossibly _sweet_.

 _I could do this with you, for the rest of my life, and not regret a single thing_ , he thinks again, and knows that it's _true_.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

_It’s frighteningly easy to get lost in Yuzuru’s body._

They fit together so well, bodies pressed together, skin on skin, and Javi’s fingers find the sharp curves of Yuzuru’s hips as they rock together, moaning.

Sex is different with everyone, Javi knows. It had been different with each of his girlfriends and different with even his casual hookups, the ones that he could barely remember during his time under Morozov’s tutelage. Each woman had felt, tasted, and _moved_ differently, each one unique in her own way, and Javi had appreciated all of them.

 _Yuzu_ , though. Being with Yuzu is so different from everyone else, the experience so singular that his previous encounters may as well not have happened at all.

Javi feels nervous in a way that he hasn’t since the first time he’d had sex, all of fifteen years old and a bundle of hormones and nerves. He’s hyper-aware of every part of his body, from the tips of his fingers to his aching legs, each press of Yuzu’s hands on him feeling as if they’re burning into his body.

It feels… _good_. Good in a way that sex never really has before, the polar opposite of zoning out and just working to make a woman feel good before he works towards his own completion. Yuzu is patient, even sweeter than Javi thought he would be, and by the time he’s urging Javi back, reaching for his discarded pants, there’s nothing else on Javi’s mind but _him._

“ _I want to.”_

They kiss, long and deep and slow, over and over, until Javi can’t stand it anymore, and Yuzu nips at his lower lip, pushes him down to lay on the bed. He straddles Javi then, sitting on top of his thighs, his hard length resting against his own stomach.

“ _Fuck.”_ The lean, hard planes of Yuzu’s body are purely masculine, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glow. Javi _wants_ him so badly that he can taste it, and whatever trepidation he had left about wanting this, wanting _him,_ disappear like the morning mist.

Yuzu flushes with pleasure under the heat of his gaze, and he reaches down, takes hold of Javi’s hand.

“Okay?” he says softly, and Javi nods. He watches, dazed, as Yuzu takes the tube and slicks Javi’s fingers up, guides his hand between his legs and shows him _how_.

He can feel the tight clutch of Yuzu’s body around his fingers, the heat of him, his eyes drinking in the sight of every shudder that goes through him as Javi finds the right spot _inside_. He props himself up with his free arm just as Yuzu bends down, their mouths meeting in an urgent kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else.

“ _Enough_ ,” Yuzu manages as they break apart, panting. “I’m ready.”

Javi pulls back and Yuzu rolls the condom down on him, and he can see the carefully controlled tremble in his fingers, the small spill of lubricant as Yuzuru tosses it to the bed.

Spanish endearments fall from his lips as Yuzu sits back down on his lap, so careful now as he guides Javi’s aching length inside of his body. It’s tight to the point of almost hurting, Yuzu’s lower lip caught between his teeth as he lowers himself bit by bit.

“ _Javi_.” His voice catches, small and overwhelmed, thighs trembling with the effort of controlling his descent.

“ _Slow,”_ Javi breathes. His fingers are splayed against his hips, petting him as he would a skittish colt. “Go slowly, cariño.”

Yuzu nods, some of the tension leaving his body as he tries to accommodate the feeling of Javi inside of him. His hands are pressed against Javi’s chest, bracing some of his weight, and his abdomen tightens a little as he takes a breath, pushing himself down the rest of the way.

Both of them groan when Yuzu finally seats himself fully, the weight of his body pressing them flush together.

“You feel so good,” Javi says softly, looking up at him with something almost akin to wonder, his pupils so dilated that they’re almost completely black.

Yuzu meets his gaze from beneath his lashes, almost absurdly shy given the situation. “Touch me?” he asks, and Javi does so without hesitation, reaching out and tracing the underside of his hard length with his thumb, mesmerized at the full-bodied shiver that goes through the other man as he does so. He feels the weight of Yuzu’s cock in his hand and he strokes him from root to tip, irresistibly drawing more breathless sounds from him, and finally, _finally_ Yuzu begins to move.

The sensations are almost overwhelming, but Javi forces himself to keep his eyes open, the sight of Yuzuru somehow just as pleasurable as the physical act of their coupling. His skin is flushed and ruddy, thighs straining with effort as they move together, back arching even as Javi takes him by the hips, helps him control the pace of it.

They fuck as flawlessly as they skate together, bodies somehow attuned despite the lingering newness of it all, and at some point Yuzu opens his eyes, meets the intensity of Javi’s stare head on. Whatever he sees there makes him stutter, stopping his motion, and Javi takes the moment to push up into a sitting position, claiming his mouth in a deep kiss. Yuzu’s arms go around his neck as he responds in kind, eager for the contact, the closeness, until Javi finally pulls back. Gently, he urges him back until their bodies disengage, moving away just enough so that they can comfortably reverse their positions on the bed.

“ _Like this_ ,” he says, when Yuzu’s finally lying on his back, thighs bracketing Javi’s waist.

This time, when Javi pushes back into his body, they’re face to face, trading slow, open-mouthed kisses as they move together. It feels different this time, more intimate, and Javi can see in Yuzu’s face that he feels it, too. He can’t stop kissing him, drunk on the taste of his mouth, and Yuzu’s arms are wound around his shoulders, clinging to him with a desperation that surprises them both.

They’re making love, pure and simple, the warmth radiating from Javi’s chest nearly overwhelming. Moisture springs to his eyes and he finally closes them, finally just lets himself _feel_ , the heat building and building until he hears Yuzu cry out, writhing beneath him as he spills himself, _untouched_ , into the tight space between their bodies.

A handful of Japanese words are gasped against his mouth as Yuzu runs his fingers through Javi’s tight-cropped hair, still trembling from his high, and Javi takes the cue to keep going, careful even now, moving his hips in tight circles until Yuzu is a panting mess beneath him. He looks completely and utterly wrecked, oversensitive and wild-eyed, but still so god damned responsive that every stroke back into him makes him sob Javi’s name.

 _He’s so beautiful like this_ , Javi thinks, drunk on the scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth. He presses kiss after fevered kiss against Yuzu’s lips, feeling the tell-tale tightening at his core and finally giving in, rocking into him harder, faster, as he chases his own completion.

When Javi comes, it’s with his face buried into the crook of Yuzu’s neck, every sense overloaded with the taste and scent and feel of him, heady and intoxicating.

Dimly, he hears Yuzu moan, thighs finally relaxing against his waist as he comes down from the adrenaline rush, loosening his grip around his shoulders. Javi’s heart is beating so fast that he thinks the other might actually be able to hear it, and he pulls back just enough to find his mouth, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

They don’t speak for a long moment, looking at each other as if with a new set of eyes, and Javi doesn’t know how he’s ever managed to live without this. Without _him_.

“Stay tonight?” he asks finally. “Please.” He cups Yuzu’s cheek gently, tenderly. They’re in a bubble of suspended time, and Javi wants to keep the moment for as long as he can.

The answering smile is _soft_. “Okay,” Yuzu replies. “As long as I can.”

It’s the best he can do, Javi knows this, before early morning commitments come knocking on both their doors.

He wills himself to be satisfied with this, and pulls Yuzu close once more.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Yuzuru leaves before dawn, before the cold spill of morning light starts peeking through the drawn curtains. He presses a kiss against Javi’s mouth, smiles at the other man’s attempt to grasp at his waist before he goes.

“Have to pack,” Yuzu says softly. “But I see you before flight out, okay?”

Javi murmurs something that might have been an affirmative before relaxing back against his bed, and Yuzu presses a last fond kiss against his forehead before letting him go back to sleep.

His ankle is starting to hurt again, and his morning dose of painkillers is back in his room. He feels good despite it, though, collecting himself before he slowly makes his way to his own room, a happy warmth radiating from his chest.

He can read his own body well enough to know that he’ll have to pull out of Worlds, but even the thought of two straight weeks off the ice isn’t enough to bring his spirits down. He’ll have non-skating commitments to be sure, but he’s already thinking about the time he’ll want to put aside for Javi, allowing himself the small daydream of a surprise visit in Spain.

The lingering joy lasts all the way until his first interview after breakfast, taken in the sitting room of one of the hotel suites.

Ms. Satou, a member of the JSF that Yuzu has met before, sits tucked in the corner of the room, absorbed on her laptop and finalizing arrangements with the other news outlets he’s agreed to see today. She gives him a nod and a brief smile, which Yuzu returns in kind, before taking his own seat in front of the reporter.

Introductions are made and Yuzu doesn’t quite catch the name of the news outlet, only that it’s international and one of the bigger ones, and he makes an effort to concentrate on the questions that the man asks. The interviewers speaks in English and Yuzu wishes that they hadn’t scheduled one quite so early, his brain still on somewhat of a lag after the night before.

The questions start off simply enough, with congratulations on his second win and queries as to whether or not he’ll compete in Worlds, and Yuzu manages to answer them with relatively safe responses. He’ll wait for his doctors to examine his ankle before making a definitive announcement, but he makes it clear that his competing at Worlds is a long shot even now; from the corner of his eye, he can see the JSF rep nod and jot something down as well.

It isn’t until the reporter brings up Javi that Yuzu starts to feel an inkling of something not being quite _right_ , but he’s still able to answer the questions about his friendship and rivalry with his training partner with practiced ease.

He stands by the assertion that training with Javi has helped him get to where he is today, and that he is very happy that they got to share the podium at the Olympics.

He quirks a smile as the reporter shows him photos of the embrace that he, Javi, and Shoma had shared right before the podium, a little embarrassed at his own emotional response.

“It’s the Olympics,” he says by way of explanation. “I think maybe everyone feels a lot here, yes?”

“Of course.” The reporter gives him a grin, sharp and quick, and then swipes at his tablet.

The next picture is a screenshot of an Instagram post; the photo is grainy and dark, obviously zoomed in from a distance, but quite unmistakable. It’s Yuzuru and Javi from the gala, not quite so tucked away from prying eyes as he’d thought, and while they aren’t exactly kissing, the moment is obviously an intimate one.

The person taking the photo had caught Yuzu in the moment that he’d cupped Javi’s cheek, thumb brushing against his lower lip, and while the angle doesn’t allow for Yuzu’s face to be seen, Javi’s expression is incredibly clear. He looks stricken, soft, _helplessly in love_ , and Yuzu remembers how his tears had felt under the pads of his fingers, the moment so special and personal that he is, in that moment, nearly overwhelmed by the sudden spike of anger that lances through him.

It feels like a violation of his privacy at its grossest, far worse than when reporters barge into Cricket and stick their cameras in his face after a horrendous practice. The fact that anyone else should see Javi like this makes him _sick_ , and the fact that the person who’d taken the photo had _posted_ the image…

Yuzu’s eyes flick towards the username-- some random skating fan?-- and then the caption: no words aside from their names tagged, followed by a series of happy emojis and hearts. He takes a breath, forces his fists to unclench, and inclines his head at the reporter in what he hopes is a neutral expression.

“With skating legends like Johnny Weir and your own coach, Brian Orser, candid about their choice of lifestyle, the LGBT community has made leaps and bounds in terms of societal acceptance in athletic events,” the reporter says, smiling. “Would you happen to have any comment on this?”

The words could almost be construed as innocent given their phrasing, but when coupled with a photo such as this, Yuzu knows the true intent behind them. He gives the man a faint smile, forces himself to keep his anger tightly coiled within, and lifts his chin.

“My English is not perfect, but I think maybe ‘lifestyle choice’ is not correct words, yes?” he says. “I am sure Weir-san would be happy to explain for himself. Maybe interview him or coach Orser if you have questions about their private lives. For me, I’m happy about more acceptance everywhere, not only in sports.”

He leans forward, swiping back to the photo of the medal ceremony. “Javi is training partner and we are friends,” he says. “That’s all.”

The reporter nods slowly, thoughtfully, and the woman from the JSF interrupts them with a polite bow. It’s all exceedingly polite, impossibly civilized as she walks the man to the door, but Yuzu catches the expression on her face as she walks past him.

He knows that this is not going to be the end of this.


	4. Chapter 4

**JAVIER.**

The morning after Yuzuru spends the night, Javi finds himself caught up in the wake of the Olympic storm.

Certainly his schedule is nowhere near as packed as what he imagines Yuzu’s to be, but busy enough that he feels rushed from one reporter to another, finally begging off when the FEDH tries to foist a fifth interview onto him before noon.

“ _Please, I have to pack_ ,” he says, pulling out his best wheedling tone as the rep purses her lips and pretends to wave him away.

“ _Fine,_ ” she says. “ _But you’ll have to deal with them when you get back to Madrid. You’re coming back a hero, Javier. You must work with us to keep the momentum going._ ”

“ _Of course, of course,_ ” he hurries to assuage her, already heading to the door. He switches to English as he reaches out to shake the hand of the crestfallen reporter, giving the man his most charming smile. “Please, send your questions via email and I promise I’ll have responses for you by the end of my flight.”

He backs out of the room even as the man stutters a thank you, brisk walking down the hallway as soon as the door to the suite shuts.

Javi runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he makes his way back to his room. Felipe’s things are already packed and ready to go, but Javi’s side of the room is still in disarray, his clothing still in the small dresser instead of in his suitcase.

As he gets his things together, he thumbs at his phone, slightly disappointed but unsurprised that there are no messages from Yuzu. He smiles ruefully; they’re not really the type of friends that text, but he figures that that will probably change. He might as well get the ball rolling.

 _How are things going?_ He pauses, then quickly types out another line. _My flight out isn’t until after midnight. Do you think you’ll have a little time before then?_

He puts the phone on the bed and then goes back to packing, methodically going through each nook to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. Every time his eyes fall on the bed, he flushes deeply, cheeks feeling far too warm in the cool air.

They hadn’t talked much last night and Javi is cognizant enough to know not to expect anything, but he feels excited about Yuzu in a way that he never has with past lovers. It’s terrible timing, to be sure, but he wants… _whatever this is…_ to _work_. After all, Yuzuru had made it clear that he wants Javi in his life, even going so far as to ask him to reconsider his retirement. Surely that means that last night isn’t a one-off. Perhaps Yuzu would even be willing to try something long distance…?

Javi runs a hand through his hair, sighing. He needs a break; they both do. He’s ready to go _home_ , and as he finishes up the room, he finds himself wondering idly if Yuzu might be able to take some time off as he recovers. He can picture him so clearly in Madrid, drenched in sun and smiling, more relaxed than Javi has ever seen him.

He finds himself staring off into space with a somewhat stupid smile on his face when his phone buzzes, and he reaches over to pick it up.

_I’m so sorry. My flight is in early evening. I’m not sure if I can make time before we leave for airport._

Javi’s face falls. _Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be long. I can just go up to your room to say goodbye?_

Dots appear as Yuzu starts to type, but no response actually shows up.

Javi waits an excruciating ten minutes before he realizes that Yuzu has probably been called away from his phone, and he puts his own cell down as he tries to temper his disappointment.

 _It’s all right_ , he tells himself. He knows what he’d gotten into when he agreed to start this thing. He knows exactly how busy Yuzuru is, how hard he works, and he had to have expected hiccups like this to happen.

The knowledge does take some of the sting away, and Javi sighs, picking up his phone and pocketing it.

He finishes packing up the rest of his things without incident, and then goes off in search of Brian and Tracy. They won’t be seeing each other for a while, after all, and it would be poor form not to see them before he goes.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

He can’t leave it like this.

Yuzu knows this, but his mind is spinning after a two-hour conversation with the JSF rep, and he needs to take a beat to gather his thoughts. Satou-san had canceled all of his remaining interviews for the rest of the day, promptly taking the time that had been meant for them to lecture him about respect, reputation, and his obligations to his country, capping off the talk with a strongly-worded suggestion to not see Javi again for the time being.

Then she’d left, finally allowing Yuzu to return to his room.

Intending to pack, he is surprised to discover that his mother has swept in and done it all for him, and that she’s left him a message saying that he has the rest of the time before their flight free.

It’s clear that she hasn’t seen the picture, nor has Satou-san had the chance to speak to her yet. Yuzu contemplates finding her and breaking the news himself, but then his phone buzzes with messages from Javi and he’s thrown in disarray all over again.

His brain tells him to go to his mother first, to mitigate the damage that might occur if she were to hear it from anyone else. But as he stares at Javi’s last messages, left without a response for nearly half an hour, he finds that all he wants to do is see Javi right now.

The clock ticks on, inexorable; he’ll need to leave for the airport soon. Yuzu rubs his forehead; surely the last thing he needs is for Javi to be seen coming to his room? But if he doesn’t see the other man now, he’s not sure when he’ll get to.

He grits his teeth, balking at the notion of outright defying the JSF, but unwilling to leave things unresolved.

He taps out a quick text before heading out the door.

_I have time now. I’m going to your room._

He’d weathered vicious rumors before; what was another to add to his collection?

***

When he gets to Javi’s floor, there’s a smattering of athletes in the hall preparing to leave. He nods politely but doesn’t otherwise stop, telling himself that no one has seen the photo yet and that everything should be fine if he acts normally.

As he knocks on the door, the skin on the back of his neck prickles.

“Come in!” A voice sounds from inside, and Yuzu gratefully pushes open the door.

“I thought you left--” He stops short, greeted by the sight of Felipe and a beautiful blonde from the German delegation. They’re holding hands, and Felipe looks up and gives him an easy grin.

“Looking for Javi?” he asks. “You’re welcome to stay. I just came back to get my luggage.”

“Thank you,” Yuzu says, stepping aside to let them pass. A spike of jealousy runs through him as Felipe casually slings an arm around the blonde’s shoulders; no one is even going to give them a second look. “Do you know when Javi will come back?”

“Sorry, he didn’t say,” Felipe says. “I thought I saw him with your coaches downstairs, but that was a while back.”

He tosses out a cheerful ‘congratulations again!’ before heading out the door with his lady friend, and Yuzu sits down on the bed, pulling out his phone just as it buzzes.

_Wait for me._

In spite of himself, he smiles.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

If he could spare a thought, Javi would probably note that sprinting across the Olympic village is probably not the most dignified way to purport oneself.

Brian and Tracy had taken him to a cafe nearby, but it still hadn’t been a particularly close walk from the hotel. Javi had nearly spilled his coffee all over himself in his haste to leave, much to Brian’s amusement and Tracy’s concern, but they’d waved him off good-naturedly and had told him to enjoy himself.

By the time Javi gets himself back to his floor, he’d nearly slipped and broken his neck twice on the snowy sidewalk outside. He’s in one piece though, and he hopes that Yuzu hasn’t gotten bored and left (unlikely) or been made to leave for the airport early (fairly likely). The Japanese are always early, Javi knows, which means that on time is late and late is simply unacceptable.

And Javi… is _not_ on time.

He pushes open the door to his room, expecting to find it empty, but instead finds a prone Yuzuru blinking sleepily up at him from the bed.

“Javi?” he says. “You take so long. I almost fall asleep.”

“I ran all the way,” Javi replies, crossing the room and taking Yuzu into his arms. “I was with Brian and Tracy at the little cafe across the village.”

“Mm.” Yuzu rests his head against Javi’s shoulder, sighing. “Sorry. I should have let you come up, say goodbye earlier. We don’t have any time now.”

Javi huffs a laugh, presses a kiss against his hair. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m sure the JSF kept you very busy, what with being the man of the hour and all. Thank you for coming down.”

At the mention of the JSF, Yuzu tenses slightly, and Javi pulls back to cup his face in his hands. “Is everything okay?” he asks. “About last night, I mean. Are you…?” He wants to ask if he has any regrets, but somehow he can’t bring himself to actually say the words.

Thankfully, Yuzu shakes his head. “I’m okay,” he says. “Just lots of things to do. Many responsibilities. But I am glad I’m here. I… Maybe I think Javi wants to talk?”

“A little,” Javi says, suddenly embarrassed. “I just didn’t want to leave things without seeing you. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in Toronto and I just… Last night was good. _Better_ than good. And I thought that we could maybe try seeing more of each other outside of shows and skating things. If you wanted.”

It’s awkward as hell and Javi wishes he could have phrased it better, but he feels tongue-tied and ridiculous in a way that no twenty-six year old man should be. From the expression on Yuzu’s face, however, it seems to suit him just fine.

“Of course I want. After I go home, see doctors, we can talk more about plans,” Yuzu says. His hands are gripping the collar of Javi’s jacket and he gives it a tug, smiling. “You sure you still retire? Nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Javi rolls his eyes, presses a kiss against his mouth. “Pretty sure,” he says. “But you’re certainly welcome to try for the next…?” He pulls back long enough to give Yuzu a questioning look, and the younger man glances at the clock and sighs.

“Twenty-two minutes.”

“Twenty-two minutes, then,” Javi says, spreading his arms. “You may proceed with the convincing.”

Yuzu gives him a heated look, almost as if he’s actually considering it, but then pulls back and smacks him with a pillow instead.

“Hey!” Javi laughs, tackling him to the bed. They spend the last bit of time they have left rolling around like teenagers, trying to see who can end up on top, and eventually just end up making out instead.

It’s a _great_ twenty-two minutes.

***

By the time Javi gets home, it’s nearly a full day later. It’s past dinner and he’s dead on his feet; his flight had been delayed and the airport packed, but when the smell of his mother’s home-cooked paella first hits him, the only thing on his mind is _gratitude_.

He eats like a starving man and his family dotes on him; even Laura stays the night in her old room just to spend time with him.

“We’re so proud of you,” his mother says. “But we’re so, so happy that you’re home.”

Javi beams, accepts her warm embrace. So much of his life has been spent far away from his family, all in pursuit of an impossible dream that he has, somehow, managed to achieve. It feels surreal to be back, his chest heavy with emotion, and he feels his eyes dampen more than once throughout their dinner.

“I’m staying this time, mama,” he says. “I want to plan more shows, start building the groundwork for a school. I really think I could grow something in Madrid, use the momentum I have from the Olympics and start something big.”

He ducks his head, smiling. “I was thinking of asking Yuzu over to help, if that’s okay with you,” he continues. “He’s probably going to be off the ice for a little, and it would be a good time to invite him.”

His mother smiles gently. “Any friend of yours is welcome in our home,” she says. “You know that.”

She stands to gather the dishes, and his father stands, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Tomorrow, you can tell us everything,” he says. “For now, _rest_.”

It’s sound advice, with Javi practically swaying at the dinner table, and his parents bid him goodnight even as Laura insists on helping him drag both of his suitcases to his old room. They’re massive, containing as much as he could cram from his Toronto apartment, and she sets the smaller one down with a groan.

“God, Javi, what do you have in this?” She drops down to the floor, sighing. “Please tell me that you didn’t just make me lug all of your old show costumes up here?”

“Of course not,” Javi says, dragging the second suitcase in. “I had those shipped before I left. This is just… everything else.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “Mm,” she says, in as non-committal voice as Javi’s ever heard. “Speaking of, since when are you and Yuzuru _friends_?”

Javi pauses. “What do you mean?” he asks. “We’ve been training partners for years.”

“Training partners, yes. But friends like… come-visit-me-in-my-country-and-stay-at-my-house-type friends?” She shrugs. “Outside of skating stuff, you two have just never struck me as that close before. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I was just a little surprised. I mean, have you ever even hung out outside of training before? Brought him for a beer with your Toronto friends?”

“Yuzu doesn’t drink,” Javi says automatically, and then rolls his eyes at Laura’s knowing look. “And if you must know, this friendship thing is… _new_. Sort of. Well, it’s old, but it’s also new.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s complicated,” he says. “I guess you just take some things for granted when you think they’re always going to be there, and then when they’re not, you… _reassess_ things.”

“And is that why you want him here?” Laura asks. “Because you’re reassessing things?”

“I want him here because we’re trying to work things out. In a… relationship sense,” Javi says, then pauses. “Does that bother you?”

“You know it doesn’t, little brother,” she says, getting up from the floor and slinging an arm over his shoulders. “To be honest, I kind of already suspected… I just wanted to give you the chance to tell me.”

She pulls out her phone and flicks to her Instagram account, holding it out. “This has been making the rounds on social media,” she says, smiling ruefully. “And it’s been a while since you’ve been home, but I’m pretty sure I still know what my brother looks like when he’s in love.”

Javier takes her phone, brows rising as he stares at the photo on it. It’s he and Yuzu from the gala, Yuzu’s hand on his face, an incredibly intimate moment captured by someone’s remarkably high-res camera.

He hands it back with a wince.

“Have mom and dad…?”

“No,” Laura says gently. “But you know they won’t care. They’re proud of you, no matter what. If Yuzuru is important enough to you that you want to bring him home, then you should tell them.”

“I was going to,” Javi says. “Just not yet. He and I-- it happened pretty fast. I’m honestly still not sure if he can even come, he won’t be able to tell me anything until his doctors have had a look at his ankle.”

Laura nods. “I’m sure you’ll find the right time,” she says, then steps in to give him a brief hug. “Until then… get some rest, okay? You’ve earned it.”

Javi manages a smile as she leaves him, dropping down to sit on the edge of his bed.

 _That photo_ … Potentially embarrassing to him, sure, but so much more than that to Yuzuru. Spain is far more liberal than Japan in these things, and besides some surprise from his own circle of friends, Javi doesn’t think anyone would bat an eyelash if he comes out with a male partner. He wouldn’t run the risk of losing support for the school he wanted to build, and he highly doubts he would he lose any guests at his shows.

For Yuzu, though… He shudders. Japan’s ice skating fans had welcomed the openly gay Johnny Weir with open arms, but there’s a big difference between admiring a retired Western skater and holding up their Japanese golden boy to anything but the most idealistic of images.

Javi thinks of calling Yuzuru, but a glance at the clock tells him that it’s a bad idea. With their time difference, it would barely be dawn in Japan, and Javi doesn’t want to wake Yuzu with something that he can’t do anything about.

He sighs. This will have to keep until tomorrow, and he can only hope that the press hasn’t gotten wind of it yet.

***

Javi gets up past noon, and only because Laura comes up to drag him out of bed. He’s bone-tired and everything hurts, and he buries his head under his pillow and tries to fight her off half-heartedly.

“Five more minutes,” he groans. “I have an Olympic medal!”

“And _I_ took a day off to babysit you,” Laura says pointedly. “Mom and dad had to go to work, so I’m in charge, and I say... time to get up and eat lunch!”

She grabs the pillow and summarily whacks him with it. “Come on, get up! I made your favorite.”

“Go away,” Javi begs, and Laura sighs.

“Fine,” she says. “I wasn’t going to tell you until you got your ass out of bed, but your boyfriend’s going to be on some Japanese talk show in like, five minutes. If you get up, we can watch it on a livestream I found.”

 _That_ gets Javi up almost immediately, and Laura gives him a disgusted look as he finally sits up. “I don’t remember you being this gross about Marina,” she says. “Or Miki, for that matter.”

She looks at him shrewdly as he disappears into the bathroom. “I guess this means you really like this one!”

Javi gets down to lunch in record time, taking a seat as Laura ladles out a steaming bowl of _callos_. It’s almost too hot for the weather, but it smells fantastic and he finds that he doesn’t mind at all.

Laura’s laptop is open on the table, a silly Japanese commercial playing as they wait for the talk show to start.

“How did you even hear about this?” Javi asks. “I thought he was going to see his doctors before doing publicity.”

“Please,” Laura says. “I keep tabs on all the big skating socials. It’s the only way I could get news about you since you kept forgetting to call us.” She gives him a look, and Javi makes a face at her.

It’s weird to be on this side of things and he knows they won’t be able to understand most of what’s being said anyway, but he’s proud of Yuzu and he wants to see him take his victory lap. Being the two-time Olympic champion is what he’s always wanted, after all, and Javi can’t be happier for him.

The show starts, and as expected, there’s a lot of fluff about the Olympics, some footage from the games showing Yuzu with he and Shoma at the podium, and some jovial commentary from the hosts.

They keep up a pleasant stream of chatter as they replay highlights of Yuzu’s program, and Javi smiles as he watches Seimei for the first time. He still hasn’t seen the whole thing-- hell, he hasn’t even seen his own performance-- and it’s surreal to be watching things as a spectator. He figures it’ll take a bit of getting used to, from now on.

A round of applause brings him to the present, and Javi blinks, smiling as Yuzu comes out on screen. He’s dressed in a suit and looks a little tired but otherwise immaculately pressed, lips stretched in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javi frowns. Laura’s stream isn’t the best quality, but even he can tell that Yuzu is tense, doing the usual round of greetings before he sits down with his main interviewer. The host is bright and friendly and appropriately impressed, but rather than relax as they begin their chat, Yuzuru simply keeps getting tenser.

“I wonder if his ankle is bothering him,” Javi says, biting his lip. “He’s acting a little weird.”

Laura shrugs. “Maybe he’s just tired,” she says. “Now I feel bad for getting you out of bed. He seems pretty out of it.”

As predicted, they don’t understand ninety percent of what’s being said, but given the pictures that intersperse the interview, it’s mostly about how Yuzu feels about his performance, his win, and essentially becoming the most decorated skater since Plushenko.

After everything is said and done, it’s fairly run-of-the-mill, and Javi can’t figure out why Yuzu seems to become increasingly uncomfortable throughout. It’s not until the host pauses, gives the camera a cheeky wink, and asks Yuzu something, that the ball finally _drops_.

There’s a little fanfare as Yuzu gets up, robotically moves to the edge of the stage, and extends a hand to help a young Japanese woman up. She looks to be about the same age as he, smartly dressed and with a beatific smile, arranging herself neatly on the couch beside Yuzuru.

For a moment, Javi is confused. Is she a celebrity being interviewed alongside him? Perhaps a skating fan who won a contest?

It isn’t until they start flashing pictures of the two, clearly much younger and still at school, that Javi begins to realize what this is.

It’s been years since Miki and his Japanese is rusty, but he knows _that_ word pretty well.

_Kanojo._

Beside him, Laura goes absolutely still.

They watch all the way until the very end of the show, until the part where Yuzuru says something, bows deeply, and helps the young woman off the stage again.

The credits roll, and a bubblegum commercial plays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanojo - literally means 'she/her', but is used colloquially (and in this context, very clearly used) as 'girlfriend'
> 
> The exact details will be revealed during Yuzuru's POV in the next chapter, but basically the interview is introducing a supposed secret girlfriend that Yuzu is finally comfortable enough to introduce to the public given his second Olympic win. It's mostly a fluff piece, explaining how they've been friends since their school days in Sendai, and are carrying on a very idealistic romance. It ends with Yuzu thanking everyone for their support.


	5. Chapter 5

**JAVIER.**

There’s dead silence as Laura gets up and shuts her laptop with a click.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she ventures softly.

Javi purses his lips. “I’m not sure there’s much to talk about,” he says, voice strained. “It’s an image thing, I’m sure. I don’t know if this is because of the photo or the Olympics or both, but I’ve known Yuzu for years. I’m pretty sure he would’ve mentioned a _girlfriend_. It’s not real.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Laura agrees.

She pauses slightly, then: “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.”

And Javi looks down at his hands, frowning.

“No. It doesn’t.”

Laura doesn’t say anything else, just lets him finish his food and wordlessly takes the dishes away. Javi goes back up to his room to brood until he thinks to check his phone, finding it dead because he hadn’t charged it last night before falling asleep.

He plugs it in and waits, seconds ticking by at a snail’s pace before the screen glows and he can finally check his messages.

He has several from Yuzuru, though they seem a poor consolation prize given what he’s just seen, and they’re mostly what he expects:

_Please call when you wake up._

_There is photo of us. JSF concerned._

_I might have to do some press._

_Hard to explain on message._

_Please call when you see this._

_Javi?_

He feels marginally better knowing that Yuzu hadn’t intended for him to find out along with the rest of the world, but somehow the whole thing still leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The photo is a breach of their privacy and while Javi has been bracing himself for some unpleasantly invasive questions that Yuzu would have to deflect, he had not expected _this_.

Yuzuru has been publicly single for years, and while there has been the occasional distasteful rumor here and there, ignoring it seems to have worked as a PR strategy. Javi can’t understand the sudden aggressive move in the opposite direction, going so far as to cook up an elaborate _lie_...

He bites his lip. Or at least he _assumes_ it’s an elaborate lie.

Doubt starts to creep in and Javi lets out a harsh exhale, willing himself to get a grip. He won’t know anything until they talk; hell, he’d barely understood any of the interview, and he’s not doing himself any favors by delaying the inevitable.

He takes a couple of calming breaths, sits down on his bed, and calls Yuzuru.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

“ _How long has this been going on?_ ” His mother’s voice is quiet, the normally melodious tones of her Japanese imminently more subdued, and it’s all Yuzu can do not to flinch.

He’s finally home and the first thing they’d had to do is call a family meeting. Satou-san had obviously had a talk with his mother before leaving Pyeongchang, as she had been abnormally quiet throughout the duration of the flight back to Japan. It had made the brief trip excruciating, as he had wanted to broach the topic with his mother but had been unable to do so for fear of being overheard.

Once they’re home, she asks Yuzu to freshen up and then come to the living room to talk when he’s ready. He takes his time with it, going through the motions of bathing away the dirt and grime, finding comfortable clothes.

His room hasn’t changed at all; his father keeps it exactly the way it’s always been, and somehow Yuzu takes some comfort from this fact.

By the time he enters the living room, both his father and sister are already seated, and his mother looks tired.

_How long has this been going on?_

Yuzu frowns, unsure of what she’s asking him. _Being gay? Being with Javi?_

“Long enough to be important,” he ventures finally, which he figures is a safe enough answer for both. “I already apologized to Satou-san about the picture. I didn’t realize anyone could see us there.”

His mother nods. “Yuzu, you know that we love you,” she says. “And I’ve known for some time that you prefer the company of men. I’ve never said anything because you were always discrete. Even with that Japanese photographer, nothing ever leaked. But this...”

“The JSF isn’t pleased,” his father breaks in gently. “You’re aware of the etiquette they demand of their skaters, and I’m sure you know how much their support has meant in the context of your career. We owe them a great deal.”

“They’ve already asked me not to be seen with Javi in public,” Yuzu says. “But I don’t think they should have a say in what I do with my private life.”

“And they shouldn’t,” Saya speaks up now, reaching out to hold his hand. “For whatever my opinion is worth, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yuzu squeezes her fingers gratefully, then pauses. “What isn’t a good idea?” he asks.

His parents exchange a look and then his mother slides her phone across the table. On it is a picture of a familiar-looking young woman, and Yuzuru squints at it for a moment, trying to place her.

“Yamamoto-san?” He says, no less confused. “Didn’t I go to school with her?”

“Yamamoto Rinko,” his mother confirms. “Her mother and I are friends. She was in your grade while you were still in school here… perhaps you remember speaking to her in class?”

“Once or twice, I guess. Barely,” Yuzu replies. “I don’t see how she has anything to do with…?” He glances at Saya, who is frowning, and realization begins to dawn.

“Mother, you can’t possibly be suggesting an _omiai_?” He glances at his father in horror, but he merely gestures towards his mother.

“Nothing so formal,” his mother says, folding her hands in her lap. “As I said, her mother and I have been friends for a long time. Rinko-chan has never had a boyfriend, she’s a wonderful student, and is a very upstanding young woman. She would be… _presentable_.”

Yuzuru balks at the word. “Presentable or not, it would be an insult to both Yamamoto-san _and_ to Javi,” he says. “I don’t care what the JSF says, I’m not going to be a puppet. I’m a two-time _Olympic champion_ \--”

“Yuzuru, _please_ ,” his mother says. “This was not the suggestion of the JSF, it was _mine._ ”

_That_ shuts him up, and his mother takes his stunned silence as the chance to forge ahead. “Satou-san asked me to make sure that you cut off all ties with Javier-san,” she says. “They don’t want you anywhere near him, and they said that they can make things very hard for you professionally if you don’t do as they wish.”

Yuzuru opens his mouth to argue, but his mother holds up a hand. “I told them that I didn’t think you would make any more mistakes so publicly in the future,” she says. “And I suggested that perhaps media scrutiny into the photo would not be so intense if you had a more formal arrangement made public.”

She pauses to let that sink in for a moment. “I spoke to her mother before we left Pyeongchang. Rinko-chan knows that the relationship would not be real,” she continues. “But she is willing to do this for you, as a… _thank you_ … for all that you have done for Sendai.”

His mother reaches for his hand. “I know it’s not ideal, but it would allow you to keep relations with Javier-san and do the least damage to your reputation.”

Yuzuru finds himself staring blankly at his mother’s hand, gut churning. Everything she’s said sounds wonderful, _the path of least resistance_ , but somehow it still feels… _wrong_.

“You’re not really considering this, are you?” Saya says, finally breaking the silence. “Yuzu?”

He opens his mouth and then closes it, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he says, voice small. “I… I’m not ready to retire, yet.”

“Then perhaps this might be the best move right now,” his mother says, gently. “You have a talk show scheduled tomorrow evening, and Rinko-chan will be available if you want to make things public. If you decide to do this, you need to do it before the photo gets too much attention.”

“If I do this,” Yuzu says. “Then the JSF won’t hold you to their demand?”

His mother nods. “They’re willing to let you carry on without repercussion as long as it isn’t in public, same as before,” she says. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been home, Yuzu. You must remember that Japan is not as forgiving as Toronto.”

He winces. “I need to think about it,” he says. “Can I give you my answer tomorrow morning?”

His mother nods. “Of course.”

As Yuzu gets up to make his way back to his room, however, he catches Saya giving him a disappointed look.

He knows exactly how she feels.

***

In the end, he decides to bend to the will of the JSF.

He tries to contact Javi before he goes on the talk show, but between the much longer flight to Spain and the time difference once he lands, Yuzu is unable to get a hold of him before they go live.

His only hope remains that Javi won’t hear of the news before they can talk, and as the show is local and probably has no Spanish audience to speak of, he clings to the thought all throughout the interview.

He gets through it with a modicum of fuss, thanking Rinko once again before he heads to the dressing room. She’s every bit as proper as his mother had promised, accepting his thanks with a gracious smile and quietly retreating afterwards.

It gives him time alone in the dressing room they’ve assigned to him, enough to decompress and check to see if Javi has returned any of his messages. As luck would have it, no sooner has he picked it up than it starts to ring, and he nearly drops it in his haste to answer.

“Javi?”

“Yuzu. Hi.” Javi’s voice is a little tinny over the phone, but obviously hesitant. Yuzu has no idea how he’s gotten wind of the broadcast, but he knows Javi well enough to know what he sounds like when he’s doubting himself.

“I tried to call,” Yuzu says, desperately groping for his English. He feels tongue-tied and anxious, eager to explain but tripping over the words in his haste. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I-- Rinko-san is not really my girlfriend. There’s a picture of us from gala, and the JSF is giving me hard time. Okaasan say Rinko-san can help, only pretend for public. JSF leave me alone because of her.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line as he finishes blurting it all out, and Yuzu sweats for a good ten seconds before Javi’s voice filters through.

“I saw the photo, too,” he says. “I was worried it would cause trouble for you, but I didn’t realize how much.” He sighs. “I’m sorry this is happening. I wish it could be different, but if you really feel that this is the best way to handle it, I’ll support you.”

Yuzuru lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry again. I wish I could explain better. This not what I wanted.” Especially not after the precious little time they’d had together.

“Me, too,” Javi replies. “But I suppose… it’s what we’ve got to work with. And if being with you means dealing with this, then I’ll deal with it. Okay?”

There’s a lump in Yuzu’s throat at that, and he has to force himself to swallow it down before replying. “Okay,” he says. He wants to say something else, thank Javi for being so understanding, but there’s a knock on his door and his mother’s voice comes through, reminding him that the car is ready. “I have to go. I’ll text you after see my doctors tomorrow. Maybe call if not so early for you.”

“Call any time,” Javi says. “I’ll wake up.”

Yuzu nods at that, then realizes that Javi can’t see him. “Bye,” he says instead, and waits for Javi to echo the word before cutting the connection.

It still feels _wrong_ , though given the situation there’s no way it could possibly feel _right_ , but the fact that Javi hasn’t given him a hard time about it makes him feel a little better.

_Maybe_ , Yuzu thinks. _Just maybe, this will finally be the end of it._

***

It’s not the end of it.

By the time the bigger news outlets catch wind of the photo, it’s a couple of weeks later. The more reputable papers simply use it as an added tidbit to bigger pieces about his Olympic win, the photo that goes with the standard byline about how Yuzuru is such good friends with his training mate and rival.

The less reputable media, however, spins it another way, far closer to home. They point out how the girlfriend announcement seems a little convenient given when the photo was taken, and insinuate that it’s all a farce to hide a homosexual affair.

The fact that it’s true doesn’t make it sting any less.

Yuzu finds that he hates seeing the picture now, with or without the negative press. Even in the harmless fluff pieces about Olympic camaraderie, part of him burns at the thought of his private life being displayed so casually.

As if he and Javi were pieces of _entertainment_.

His ankle throbs; under his doctor’s advisement he’s been cutting back on his pain medication little by little, and it’s at a near constant ache nowadays. The physical pain adding to the fact that he’s had to cancel his personal show has pushed him to the very edge of what he can take, the incredible high of his second Olympics contrasting with the incredible low that he finds himself in now.

Perhaps the one bright spot in his life is the fact that Javi is coming to Japan in a month, slated to perform in an ensemble show.

They’ve had to be even more careful since the picture, and they’re taking advantage of the fact that he has an official reason to be in the country. They have plans to meet before and after the tour is over, and Yuzu has been counting down the days. In point of fact, the only thing that’s keeping him sane is Javi’s nearly daily video calls and messages, but even though this is more contact than they’ve ever had in the years they trained together, Yuzu still _misses_ him.

He feels Javi’s absence in his _bones_ , _like a physical thing_ , and he finds himself wondering, yet again, how different things could have been if they’d simply come together _sooner_.

A year ago, perhaps two. Just any other day at the club, no cameras or nosy fans, just Javi and Yuzu, among people they could _trust_.

If it had gone down that way, there would be no photo. No media. No Rinko. No JSF telling him what to do. _Who to love._

Water splashes on his hand and Yuzuru looks down in shock, realizing that his face is wet. His laptop is open in front of him and he’s been trying to read the same English paragraph for the past half hour; his concentration is completely shot.

Angrily, he wipes away the tears, mentally berating himself for falling behind in his study time. Among his many goals, he wants to finish the last of his e-courses in Waseda this year, because if he can’t skate, he might as well double his efforts there.

Easier said than done.

He wipes away the moisture from his face and is dismayed to find that the tears keep coming, blurring his vision. Nothing seems to be going right today, and he can only hope that halfway across the world, Javi is having an easier time of things.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

“Where’s your head today, Javi?”

A well-placed flick between the eyes jolts Javier back from his inattention, and he rubs his forehead sheepishly. “I’m here,” he says. “I’m listening, I promise.”

Laura frowns, leaning back against the cushions. They’re at a quiet little cafe near their house and she’s helping him look for a new place. He’s already sold his apartment in Toronto and he’s ready to put down roots here, and the first step is to get himself out of his parents house.

“If you were listening, then what did I just say?” she asks.

“Something about finding a two-bedroom?” he asks. “No, wait. You were asking if I wanted a two-bedroom or bigger?”

“Close,” Laura sighs, shoving her laptop at him. “I found a really nice three-bedroom in your price range, and I was asking you if you needed that much space or if I should keep looking for something smaller.”

It’s a valid question. Javi had made do with his single bedroom in Toronto and he’d never felt like he was hurting for space. He’s rarely home, after all, what with his active lifestyle and shows often taking him out of the country. He’d initially wanted a two-bedroom because he needs the extra space to be his office, but a third bedroom…

“A three-bedroom’s fine,” Javi says, and he rolls his eyes at her knowing look. “ _As a guest room_ , Laura. In case you and Enrique don’t work out and you need a place to stay or something.”

Laura mock gasps. “You bite your tongue, Javier Fernandez,” she cries. “Enrique and I are destined to be together. We’re going to make beautiful babies!”

“Why don’t we wait until you make it past the one-year mark first?” Javier says dryly. It’s not the first time Laura has fallen hard for a beau, and it likely won’t be the last. “But yes, we should make an appointment to see that apartment. I’m definitely interested, and I want to clear out my boxes from the house as soon as I can.”

Laura rests her chin on her hands, peering at him. “I notice you haven’t mentioned Yuzu to mom and dad again,” she says. “Is everything okay with you two?”

Javi sighs. “As well as it can be,” he says. “I haven’t said anything because Yuzu’s ankle is worse than he thought. He needs to stay in Japan for rehab for now; if it gets better, he might be able to take a vacation, but until he gets the all clear from his doctors, there’s really nothing he can do.”

“But you’re going to be in Japan in a month, right?”

“Feels like forever,” Javi says ruefully. “I used to go months without seeing Miki and it was okay, but we were never under this much stress. I know Yuzu’s not doing well and it makes me crazy that I can’t help him. Every time I ask, he keeps insisting that he’s okay, but I know he’s not telling me everything. I just...

‘I just wish that he would let me take some of the burden,” he continues. “He doesn’t have to go through this alone.”

Laura makes a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. “Well, you did mention that this was his first serious relationship,” she says. “He’s probably just used to keeping in all inside. I’m sure he’s not doing it on purpose, he just… doesn’t know how couples work, maybe?”

“I know you’re right,” Javi says. “I just don’t like seeing him hurt, that’s all.”

“Well,” Laura says, tapping her chin. “If there were no problems with the JSF, what would you do in this situation?”

“Go and see him,” Javi says automatically. “Even if it’s just for a few days, I feel like he needs me right now.”

“There you go, then.” Laura makes a shooing motion, and Javi chuckles.

“What?” he asks. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Laura says. “I mean, the whole point of the girlfriend is that you can see each other on the sly, right? So just… _go to Japan_. Be careful, be nondescript, and don’t make a scene, obviously. But go see him.”

“I-- That’s ridiculous,” Javi says, but he’s already pulling Laura’s laptop towards him and checking flights. “I can’t just drop in unannounced. He’s got rehab, publicity, _commitments_...”

“Then tell him beforehand,” Laura says. “Just… do it right before you board the plane so he can’t talk you out of it.”

As insane as it sounds, Laura is actually making sense to him. Javi thinks he might have had too much coffee, and his hand shakes just a little as he books the flight.

“If this blows up in my face,” he warns. “I’m blaming you.”

“Please,” Laura says. “You mean that _when_ it works out, I get the credit.”

Javi finds that he doesn’t have an answer for that, and books the flight.

***

As per his sister’s suggestion, Javi tells Yuzu that he’s coming when he’s already at the airport. There’s no way to cancel and he keeps his message as brief and pressure-free as possible, and he’s relieved when Yuzu responds with a shocked emoji and a heart.

His flight from Madrid connects in China, and from there it’s straight to Sendai. Skipping the busier Narita airport is a load off his mind, and though Sendai is a bustling city in its own right, he makes it out of the airport fairly incognito.

Still, it’s a long, taxing journey, nearly an entire day spent flying, and by the time he gets to the Airbnb apartment that he’s booked, he’s bone-tired. He texts Yuzuru the code to the front door and promptly passes out, still fully dressed and face-first on the coverlet that he doesn’t have the energy to turn down.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

_I’m at the airport._

_Going to arrive in Sendai tomorrow evening._

_I know you’re probably busy and it’s okay if you don’t have time, but if you want to see me, I’ll be there for four days._

At first Yuzuru thinks it’s a joke, but as he reads through the messages again, he realizes that Javi is dead serious. He checks his calendar and sees two public appearances and a rehab session slated for the days that Javi will be here, and quickly messages his mother to cancel everything except for the rehab.

It’s the easiest choice he’s ever made, and even though the appearances are interviews he hadn’t initially minded, he doesn’t feel a shred of guilt about canceling, only relief.

After that, the only thing left to do is wait.

He goes through the motions of his day, spends the allotted time staring at his coursework and does his daily stretching exercises. By the time night falls, he’s so skittish that he even foregoes his usual habit of obsessively studying videos of his old programs, visualizing practice even though he can’t actually go out and do it.

Instead he looks up fluff pieces, footage of him and Javi and Shoma at the Olympics, the medal presentation, the gala. He smiles when he see how happy Javi looks, the wide grin as he accepts his bronze.

_He misses him so much._

He falls asleep with his laptop open on his bed, earphones still plugged in, and dreams about Javi’s smile.

***

By the time Javi texts the door code, Yuzu is beside himself.

It’s early evening and he’s already told his mother about his plans for the next few days, and apart from a measured look and a soft request to be careful, she’d been very neutral about his cancellations. Perhaps she’d sensed his distress in the past weeks as well, and whatever the reason, Yuzu is grateful for the lack of resistance.

He takes a cab to the address that Javi sends him, noting the quiet though high-end neighborhood. It’s as good a choice as any for this sort of thing, and Yuzu appreciates the foresight; a big hotel would have been the opposite of discrete.

After he finds the apartment number and keys in the code, he steps inside gingerly. The air is cool and unfamiliar, modern but spare furnishings adorning the apartment. It’s as typically compact as any apartment in Japan, and he sets his small suitcase by the door and takes off his shoes. The partition halving the living space and the bedroom is a simple white screen, and when he registers the sound of Javi’s soft breathing, his heart leaps into his throat.

For a moment, Yuzu simply stands next the screen, watching Javi sleep. He’s curled up on his side, fully dressed no less, and is shivering a little; he’s forgotten to turn on the heat.

The entire scene is so _Javi_ that Yuzu’s chest actually _hurts_ as he stands there, so filled with an overwhelming emotion that he very nearly turns on his heel and walks out of there; it’s so damned powerful.

But Yuzuru Hanyu is many things and a coward isn’t one of them, and so he takes a breath and moves forward, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“ _Javi,_ ” he says softly. He runs his fingers through the soft curls, cupping his cheek. “ _Wake up, Javi._ ”

It takes him a while of soft coaxing before the other man finally cracks open an eyelid, and he smiles when he first sees Yuzu, sweet and gentle. “Hey,” he says. “I fell asleep.”

“I see that,” Yuzu says, bending down to brush his lips against Javi’s. “You still wearing shoes.”

Javi’s eyes crinkle at the mild disapproving tone, and he sits up, smiling. “Sorry,” he says, trying to shrug off his jacket. “The flight was hell.”

Yuzu helps him pull off his coat, folding it in half and hanging it over a chair. “Flights are all long and hard,” he says. “But… I still glad that Javi is here.”

When he turns around, Javi is sitting at the edge of the bed, still soft with sleep but looking at him with so much tenderness that Yuzu almost can’t bear it.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Javi says. “I just-- I didn’t want you to have to go through this alone.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his lip and shakes his head instead, holding out a hand to Yuzu.

It feels like a bookend to their first night together, except instead of heat there is _warmth_ , steady and true, and Yuzu swallows hard.

He steps forward, moving into the circle of Javi’s arms, and for the first time in two weeks, finally feels like he can _breathe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omiai - an arranged meeting for the purposes of considering marriage. It's not an arranged marriage per se, but it falls between that and simply setting two people up on a date, and the practice is uncommon but not unheard of in modern Japanese society.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly explicit content, with Yuzu and Javi switching quite a bit. I wasn’t sure if this was something to warn for, but I thought I’d put a heads up just in case. That said, the explicit content is well within the realm of how I’ve written them thus far, so if you've made it this far, I don't think there should be any surprises. :)

**YUZURU.**

It’s past midnight and he can’t sleep.

Javi is curled up next to him, an arm slung over Yuzu’s midsection, breathing soft and even. He’s nude under the covers, they both are, and Yuzu reddens slightly as his mind drifts back to earlier events.

The whole night had been charged, the atmosphere _thick_ ; even after spending a quiet dinner in and simply talking, Yuzu had not been able to stop touching him. It had taken a herculean effort to detach long enough so that Javi could shower, and even then he’d spent the fifteen minutes impatiently prowling the living room.

By the time Javi had come out of the bath, Yuzu’d felt out of control.

He’d taken Javi to bed for the first time and Javi had let him, on his back, thighs spread, fingers tangled in Yuzu’s hair. He’d forgotten that his ankle hurt and had lost himself in the feeling of Javi’s body, his tight warmth, had kissed away every gasp and sigh.

It had gone on forever but somehow not nearly long enough, and when it was over and Javi was asleep beside him, Yuzu had felt warm skin under his palms and his chest had ached all over again.

“ _I love you,_ ” he whispers now in English, even though he knows Javi can’t hear him. It hurts more than he thought it would, this heavy ache inside of him, but it’s a good feeling, too. It feels _right_.

Vaguely, he wonders if they’re going too fast, if what he feels is for an idealized version of Javi rather than the real person. But they’re partners before they’re anything else, and Yuzu has seen Javi at his lowest, seen him through pain and triumph, tears and joy. He _knows_ him, has spent more time with him than Courtney or Miki or Marina, and what Yuzu feels for him now, in this moment, feels like the end result of a journey he hadn’t realized he’d been on.

He _loves_ him, has loved him for a good long while now, and tonight, under the cover of darkness, Yuzu can be brave enough to admit it to himself.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

He doesn’t know what pulls him from sleep, but if the utter darkness is any indication, it’s far too early to be up. Yuzu’s arm is warm around his stomach, the other man practically molded to him from behind, his soft breaths tickling the nape of Javi’s neck.

Javi gives an experimental shift and Yuzu mutters in his sleep and pulls him closer, and oh. _Oh._ Javi figures out what had woken him up pretty quick.

Yuzu had been careful earlier but he’s still a little sore down there, and whatever Yuzu’s been dreaming about must be pretty damn good, because he’s got one leg shoved between Javi’s and his hard cock is pressing against the cleft of his ass.

Javi mutters a curse as his wiggling around makes Yuzu clutch at him even tighter, and finally he sits up, jostling the other man awake. “Yuzu, either let me sleep or wake up and fuck me, _dios mio_ -”

Dark eyes snap open as Yuzu wakes up with a soft gasp, looking momentarily disoriented before fixating on him.

“Good dream?” Javi asks dryly, but is entirely unprepared for the shift in Yuzu’s features. Even in the low light filtering from the bathroom he can see that his pupils are dilated, his rude awakening having done nothing to temper his arousal.

“Best dream,” Yuzu says, voice low. “About Javi. Always about Javi.” His voice curls around his name, accent thicker than usual, and in spite of himself, Javi flushes.

“You’ll have to tell me what it was about sometime,” he says, and Yuzu bites his lip, smiling.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, before pulling Javi closer again. “Tonight, maybe I show instead.”

This time, when they come together, there’s a distinct edge of desperation to it. Yuzu had gone so slowly earlier, mindful of Javi’s inexperience on this side of things, but there’s little of that hesitance present now. He kisses Javi with a single-minded determination, throwing a leg over his thigh and letting him _feel_ just how much he wants him.

Javi finds that he can’t blame him; they’d gone from zero to sixty in no time at all, and he’s more than a little impatient himself. When Yuzu gives him a last kiss and then urges him to lay on his front, he goes without protest, spreading his legs to give him more room.

A sharp intake of breath is the reward that he gets for his compliance, and there’s a whisper of movement before slick fingers are pushing inside of him-- _two at once--_ and oh god, clearly Yuzu has decided to cut to the chase.

 _Fucking hell_. Javi’s still loose from earlier but not so loose that it doesn’t sting a little when Yuzu scissors his fingers inside of him, stretching him out even as he pistons them, going a little deeper each time. Javi closes his eyes and breathes through it until the mild ache shifts to bone-melting pleasure, unconsciously bucking his hips when Yuzu brushes against his prostate.

He’s panting harshly by the time Yuzu starts grinding the pads of his fingers down on the spot, his hard length pressing against the bed, leaking at the tip. There’s a brief moment when Javi actually thinks he may be able to come like that, open-mouthed and panting into his pillow, and he lets out an honest-to-god _whine_ when Yuzu pulls his fingers away.

“Not yet,” he whispers in Javi’s ear. There’s a brief rush of air as Yuzu positions himself between his spread legs, and then he’s pushing inside in one swift motion, burying himself to the _hilt_.

Javi swears out loud at that point. It’s something short and cutoff and entirely in Spanish, and he feels both incredible and incredibly _full_ , the weight of Yuzu’s deceptively slight frame draped over him.

Yuzu has one hand braced on the bed and the other on his shoulder, keeping him pressed against the mattress, his hot breath ghosting against his cheek.

“Javi,” he says, even as he withdraws, pushes back in. “ _My Javi_.”

The pace that Yuzu keeps is steady, moving against him as if he’s moving on the ice, building his desire with as much concentration as he would give a routine. Javi feels trapped in the best way possible, unable to do anything but take whatever he wants to give him, and when Yuzu finally removes his hand from his shoulder and whispers “t _ouch yourself_ ”, Javi is only too happy to comply.

He gets his hand on his cock, stripping it in time to the pace that Yuzu is fucking him, and just as he’s about to come, Yuzu grinds his hips down. The pressure on his prostate coupled with the stimulation from his hand gets him off like a shot, and Javi gasps as his orgasm hits him, body going taut as a bowstring. It’s dark and intense and Javi almost blacks out from the raw feel of it, coming in thick ropes into his own hand, spilling over into the sheets, so overwhelmed that he can barely catch his breath.

“ _Fuck._ ” He groans as Yuzu pulls out of him, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room. He’s still shuddering through the aftershocks when Yuzu rolls him onto his back, pushing back inside with no resistance whatsoever.

It’s almost too much but it feels too damned good to stop, the heady, rolling waves of their bodies moving together, the smell of sex and sweat and come heavy in the air.

" _You’re making me crazy, cariño--”_ Javi moans, and it’s all he can really do to spread his legs for him, blind pleasure pulsing between them like the blood in his veins.

Yuzu’s head is bent low and he gasps something in his ear; the Japanese words echo in familiarity but Javi’s in no mind to think right now, and so he turns his head and captures Yuzu’s mouth instead.

They kiss and kiss and _kiss_ , sweat making them slide together like minnows in a pond, and finally Yuzu comes like this, rocking inside of him one last time before shuddering, practically sobbing his pleasure against Javi’s mouth.

Javi takes it all, kisses his lips and keeps his arms around his shoulders, holding him in place as he catches his breath, eyes dark and wide. “Hey. It’s okay,” he says, as if he understands what Yuzu had said. “We’re going to be okay.”

Yuzu doesn’t respond, but he leans into every single one of Javi’s touches, accepting everything. He comes down slowly, inexorably, adrenaline and endorphins fading into a pleasant fatigue.

Eventually, one hand finds its way to Javi’s cheek, tenderly thumbs against the stubble there.

“I know,” Yuzu says, voice so soft that he has to strain to hear. “Happy you here.” He drops his head down to Javi’s chest, as if listening to his heartbeat.

“So am I,” Javi says.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Yuzu sleeps in for the first time since he can remember, heavy and satisfied and dreamless.

He hadn’t set an alarm and so he wakes only when Javi does, blinking sleepily when he realizes that the other man has just come out of the bathroom, already dressed.

“Good morning,” Javi says brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s almost noon and I thought I’d go get us some food. Do you have any requests?”

Yuzu wrinkles his nose, thinking about his mother’s cooking versus convenience store fare and finding the latter wanting. “Onigiri,” he says finally, going with the safe choice. “And fruit. Please?”

“Your wish is my command,” Javi says, winking. He presses a kiss against Yuzu’s forehead before heading out the door, and it’s all so terribly domestic that Yuzu is almost embarrassed by how much he enjoys it.

He doesn’t know what he’d expected when he’d started this thing with Javi, but somehow this isn’t it. The heat had always been there, simmering between them, but not this easy comfort, the familiarity that comes so effortlessly.

He rolls his shoulders and pads to the bathroom, finding that he can’t quite wipe the smile off his face.

 _I’m happy_. For the first time in what seems like a drought, he feels completely relaxed, and he steps under the hot spray of water and lets it beat down on him, basking in the feel of it.

He spends so long in the shower that Javi actually gets back from the store, and he’s just finished scrubbing away the last of their night together when the other man peeks in.

“Everything okay?” Javi asks. “You’ve been in there a while. Must be starving.”

Yuzu peers over his shoulder at him and gives him a _look,_ making a show of rinsing his hair. “Not so long,” he says. “Maybe Javi just looking for an excuse to peek.”

He arches his back just _so_ , and _that_ gets Javi all the way into the bathroom. “And if I was?” he asks, and Yuzu laughs softly.

“I’d ask if just want to _look_ ,” he replies. “Or if you want to do... _something_.”

“Something,” says Javi immediately, and Yuzu laughs, delighted, as he starts to strip.

As it turns out, they both end up needing a shower right after this one, but Yuzu doesn’t mind at all.

***

It’s an hour later by the time they get to the food that Javi had bought, curled up on the couch and wearing little more than the comforter they’d dragged from the bed. Yuzu laughs as he inspects the contents of the bag, noting the number of energy drinks and the random assortment of snacks.

“You shop like guy,” he says, and Javi makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort.

“As opposed to who? Your mom?” He nuzzles Yuzu’s shoulder as he bites into an onigiri. “We should just go out later, get some real food. I think I saw a ramen place down the block.”

“Maybe,” Yuzu says. He can’t live off convenience store food for the next three days and he knows it, but he’s not so sure this quiet neighborhood is quiet enough. “Or maybe we can have delivery.”

Javi inclines his head at that, softening at the look on his face. “I can walk over and pick it up,” he says, and leaves it at that.

They finish their food in companionable silence, the television a low hum in the background. They’re not really watching; Javi can’t understand most of it and Yuzu is tired of the news, but eventually a silly cartoon comes on that makes Javi laugh.

Yuzu touches his cheek. “I like hearing that,” he says. “Javi laughing makes me feel better.”

He stretches out his leg, inspecting his ankle gingerly. “Actually feel okay today.”

“Maybe because you got some rest this morning,” Javi says. He runs a hand down Yuzu’s thigh; an intimate gesture. It makes Yuzu shiver. “Do you have rehab while I’m here?”

“Yes,” he says. “Tomorrow morning. Okaasan canceled other things.” He rests his head against Javi’s shoulder as his hand makes small, soothing trails against Yuzu’s inner thigh. “Want to be here as much as I can.”

“I’m glad,” Javi says warmly. “You know you can count on me, don’t you? If you ever need me, just ask. We’re in this together.”

“Okay,” Yuzu says. He catches the hand that’s still pressed against his skin, moves it up to his chest instead. Lets Javi feel the steady beating of his heart. “Next time I feel bad, I tell you.”

“Good.” Javi cradles his jaw, seals the deal with a kiss.

***

Apart from when Yuzu leaves for rehab in the morning of the third day, they spend most of their time inside the apartment.

Javi tells him about Madrid, about narrowing the search for a new place, Laura’s sort of new boyfriend, and Effie not being used to his parents house. Yuzu hoards the information like a dragon hoarding gold, as if he’s trying to make up for the fact that he honestly knows so little about Javi outside of skating.

“When your ankle is better and you’re able to travel again,” Javi says at one point. “Maybe you can come visit. I’d love to show you around.”

Yuzu thinks of what it would be like in Spain, in a place with so much sun and freedom, and wonders if he can picture himself sitting on Javi’s couch, meeting Javi’s family, being in Javi’s life-outside-of-skating.

“Yes,” he says. “I want to.”

He kisses Javi then, a soft brush of lips, and makes a pleased noise when Javi turns it deeper, cradling the nape of his neck and pulling him close.

Yuzu’s still wearing his track suit from rehab and he smiles when Javi tugs his jacket zipper down, baring his chest. “Miss me?” he teases, but nonetheless arches up off the couch to help him along.

“Not really,” Javi says, eyes twinkling. He hooks his thumbs into both Yuzu’s joggers and briefs, eases them down over his hips and thighs. “I barely even noticed you were gone.”

Yuzu kicks them off the rest of the way because he’s helpful like that, eyes locked on Javi stripping off his own clothing with a lot less fanfare. His Espanya t-shirt gets tossed over the coffee table, his shorts dropped on the floor. Of course Javi isn’t wearing his boxer briefs, because the last time he’d tried, Yuzu had peeled them right off.

With his _teeth_.

He’s about to shrug off his open jacket when Javi gets back on top of him, skin on skin. “Keep it on,” he says, and the stark hunger in his eyes makes Yuzu breathe out an ‘okay’ before he can even think about protesting.

His back hits the couch again when they start kissing, the weight of Javi’s body keeping him in place, and Yuzu closes his eyes and thinks about how much he wants this. _Him_. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve had sex since Javi arrived, but Yuzu can’t seem to get enough of him, knowing that their bubble of time is about to burst and that tomorrow-- _god, tomorrow already?--_ Javi will be gone again.

“Are you still sore?” Javi asks at one point, hand between his legs, cupping his length before reaching further back.

Yuzu flushes. “Yes,” he confesses. “But I still want to.” Somehow knowing that he’ll feel it tomorrow, after Javi’s thousands of miles away, makes him want it _more_.

“I’ll go slow,” Javi says.

And he does. He takes his time opening Yuzu up, strumming his desire with an enthusiasm that leaves him shaken, until his toes curl and the fingers in Javi’s hair tighten to the point of what surely must be pain. He goes so slowly that Yuzu wonders if he’ll ever actually get around to fucking him, or if he just intends to keep him like this forever, hovering over the brink of orgasm but never quite letting him finish, and says as much in broken gasps.

“You exaggerate, cariño,” Javi says, right before swallowing him down, and Yuzu can’t stop himself from coming like that, a sobbing mess, down the back of his throat.

Afterwards, Javi picks him up and carries him to the bed, lays him down like he’s the most precious of cargo. Yuzu finally manages to rid himself of his jacket-- by now a sweaty, sodden heap-- before collapsing back down.

“Come here,” Yuzu says, and Javi does, stretching out on his side. Yuzu bends a knee and Javi finally pushes inside of him like this, spooning him from behind, dropping feather-light kisses on his shoulder and neck.

It kind of stings but in a good way, with Javi’s length filling him more thoroughly than his fingers had, and Yuzu reaches behind himself blindly, groping for Javi’s waist, needing something else, something _more_ , but not quite knowing what.

As always, Javi figures it out.

He wraps an arm around Yuzu’s torso, fingers pressed against his chest, above his _heart_. “ _Shh,_ ” he whispers, right in his ear. “ _I have you._ ”

Yuzu puts his own hand above his and breathes, listening to the sounds of their lovemaking. It’s comfort as much as it pleasure, an indescribable closeness that makes him feel heavy and light at the same time. Yuzu thinks he might have started crying at some point, but it doesn’t matter because Javi cradles his cheek and kisses the moisture away.

Javi goes so slowly and so carefully that Yuzu can almost believe that they have all the time in the world, losing himself in the slow build of pleasure, in the pressure of Javi’s fingers against his hips.

“Can you come again?” Javi asks eventually, voice dark and deep. He moves his hand from Yuzu’s hip to his cock; he’s hard again but it almost hurts when his fingertips brush against his length.

“ _Maybe,_ ” Yuzu says. “ _Try._ ” When Javi takes him fully in hand, he jerks back instinctively, but the movement only seats Javi more firmly inside of him, making them both gasp.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Javi says. “ _You’re so--_ ” He cuts himself off when Yuzu bucks a little more in his grasp, pushing into the loose circle of his grip.

It actually does _ache_ this time, even though Javi’s gripping him so carefully, and Yuzu lets out a breath, shaking his head.

“Maybe not this way,” he admits, gently disentangling himself from Javi’s grip. He hisses softly as he moves forward, pulls away completely. He’s done this enough times to know what can get him off the fastest, and he gets on his hands and knees, gives Javi a _look_ over his shoulder.

“Like this,” he says, and even in the waning light he can see Javi’s throat move as he swallows hard. Yuzu knows what he must look like-- he certainly _feels_ it well enough, sensitive and swollen and so god damned _open_ down there-- but he likes that he can make Javi as out of control as he feels.

There’s not a lot of intimacy in this position but it certainly hits all the right places, and when Javi finally pushes back into him, Yuzu knows that he’s not going to last very long at all.

“ _Javi,_ ” he moans, and he makes no pretense of what he wants from him, forehead dropping to the bed even as he pushes back, meeting every single one of Javi’s thrusts. He wants to feel it tomorrow, wants the physical reminder to go with the memories, and Javi finally gets the idea and tightens his grip on his waist, fucks into him exactly the way Yuzu _wants_.

It doesn’t take much more-- once, twice, and then Yuzu is coming, clenching down as he finally spills himself into the bed with a hoarse cry. Javi isn’t gentle for once and Yuzu loves it, loves the fact that he keeps going even as he’s shuddering through the aftershocks, riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

“ _Come inside me,_ ” Yuzu begs in Japanese, and maybe it’s his tone of voice that gets the message across but Javi actually swears at that, fingers digging into his hips. He gives one final thrust, _hard_ , before doing exactly what Yuzu had asked, and the burst of slippery heat inside makes him groan, slick and wet and so full he can barely think straight.

When Javi’s grip on his waist finally loses its urgency, Yuzu is still shaking. He bites back a moan as Javi finally pulls out of him, collapsing on top of the wet spot but so tired that he can’t even bring himself to roll away.

“Hey,” Javi says tenderly. “Come here.” He presses a kiss against his shoulder before gently pulling him away, taking him into his arms. Yuzu goes, deadweight against Javi’s chest, but still somehow manages to turn his chin up, greedily seeking the other man’s mouth.

“ _Kiss,_ ” he says plaintively, and Javi lets out a soft chuckle, carding his fingers through Yuzu’s hair.

“Kiss,” he agrees, and does just that.

***

On the fourth day, Yuzu is quieter.

He wakes up well before his alarm goes off, as if his body knows that his routine is about to come back in full force, and he allows himself the quiet moment of simply looking into Javi’s face. In slumber, his normally animated features are completely relaxed, expression peaceful.

Yuzu reaches out and brushes his fingertip against the high point of Javi’s cheek, trailing down to his full lower lip. Even in sleep, his mouth forms a vague smile, as if he can tell that Yuzu is touching him.

 _I wish we had more time,_ Yuzu thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead he moves forward, fitting himself against Javi’s body so that his head is resting on his chest, his arm slung over his stomach. Javi mutters in his sleep and pulls him closer, holding him more fully, and Yuzu sighs and closes his eyes.

If only for a moment longer, he wants to pretend the rest of the world isn’t waiting.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

They make love one last time before he goes.

Face to face on the rumpled bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Javi keeps his eyes open through the whole thing, wanting to remember everything, memorize every detail of Yuzu’s face.

There’s no urgency this time, just a gentle, inexorable rocking that makes them both shiver.

“ _Okay?”_ Yuzu asks softly, mouthing at his jaw before kissing him. He’s so careful today, pushing into Javi with long, slow strokes, long fingers brushing restlessly over his neck, his chest, his nipples. His thumb rubs against a hardened nub and Javi moans-- _yes_ \-- and cants his hips so that he can meet Yuzu _just so_.

 _He looks like a painting_ , Javi thinks, mesmerized by the white-gold light spilling over his damp skin. Yuzu’s eyes are dark and fathomless, completely fixed on him, stare so intense that it would make Javi flush on any other day.

He loves it now, though, loves being pinned by that gaze, by the hand that’s finally found his wrist and presses down, briefly, before sliding up to interlace their fingers. It’s easy to get lost in the pleasure, one leg braced on the bed, the other sliding up to hook behind Yuzu’s calf. He’s all but urging him on and Yuzu smiles at him, tender and a little exasperated, before finally giving him what he wants. _Needs._

“ _So impatient,_ ” he breathes, even as Javi comes, shuddering, in the tight space between their bodies. Yuzu stops moving and reaches for him instead, wrapping a firm hand around his length and stroking him through the aftershocks, milking his orgasm for everything it’s worth.

“ _Joder,_ ” Javi swears, bucking in his grip. His eyes finally close when it becomes too much, every nerve-ending on his body alight, choking back a sob when Yuzu finally lets him go.

Dimly, Javi feels him slowly pulling out, and then he’s being kissed so very, very gently.

“ _Stay,_ ” Yuzu says warmly, and then he’s moving the hand _dripping with Javi’s come_ between his own legs, jacking himself off with a practiced ease. _Jesus Christ_. Javi can do nothing but watch, mouth agape, until he feels Yuzu spending himself on his stomach, slick warmth striping across his abdomen.

Yuzu kisses him again after that, carelessly draping himself on top of the mess that he’s made. It should be gross but it really, really _isn’t_ , and Javi wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer.

He wants to say something, _anything_ , but he doesn’t have the words, and Yuzuru doesn’t seem to mind. His expression is nothing but tender, and if there’s a slight melancholy to the way he brushes soft kisses against Javi’s mouth, over and over, he doesn’t speak of it.

They kiss until Javi’s third alarm finally goes off, the one that he’d set just in case he sleeps through the first two, and he drops his head back on the pillow with a sigh.

“I have to get ready,” he says, biting his lip. Getting up at the third alarm means he’ll have to skip lunch before getting himself to the airport, and he’s in desperate need of a shower.

Yuzu nods, brushing his lips against his one last time. “I call taxi for you,” he says. They’d agreed last night to say their goodbyes here, in private, unwilling to run the risk of getting spotted at the airport. Javi may be able to travel incognito, but there’s no place in Japan where Yuzu won’t get recognized, and they work with what they’ve got.

By the time Javi’s done with the shower, Yuzu’s already booked his taxi and tossed the sheets in the hamper. He brushes a kiss against his cheek as Yuzu steps into the bathroom, nodding at his promises to be quick.

After Javi finishes checking the apartment for anything he may have forgotten, he pulls his suitcase to the door and shrugs on his jacket. The apartment looks exactly the way it had when he’d arrived four days ago, not a single trace of them left behind. It’s almost surreal, as if he’s just woken up from a fever dream, but when he closes his eyes he can still feel the impression of Yuzu’s mouth against his, the feel of his hands.

 _It happened_ , he thinks. _It’s real_.

It isn’t long before Yuzu emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dressed in a fresh tracksuit. His expression is unreadable, but softens when he catches the look on Javi’s face.

“Thank you,” he says, reaching for Javi’s hands. “I really--” He pauses, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “The past days so special. _Thank you._ ”

He injects the last with enough fervent emotion that Javi _gets_ it, understands what he’s trying to say with the few words he has.

“I’m glad I came,” he says, voice cracking a bit. “I’ll see you in a month.” And then he pulls Yuzuru in and embraces him, long and hard, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and just breathing him in.

 _This,_ Javi realizes. _Is what home is._

And then he grabs the handle of his suitcase, pulls the door open, and leaves him behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been buried with work and RL lately, and finally finishing this chapter felt awesome! I think updates will probably happen less often from now on, (or at least until work stops kicking my ass a bit), but I'll do my best. I'm pretty excited for Worlds, so I'm hoping I'll get to update at least once before (or around) that time. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**YUZURU.**

The other shoe drops.

It’s a week later when the very worst of the gutter tabloids start trickling out the news, the latest in a long line of articles designed to get clicks and little else.

It turns out that his last minute interview cancellations during Javi’s visit had caught some attention after all, as some enterprising journalist had seen a fan account spotting Javi at the Sendai airport and connected the dots.

More ‘proof’ mixed with lies, more thinly-veiled accusations that his status as a role model is undeserved. _Think of the impressionable youth_.

Yuzuru clenches a fist, shutting his laptop with a loud click. He can’t read anymore. He knows he should never have opened the articles in the first place, but somehow, some perverse part of him still cares what other people think.

Two Olympic gold medals under his belt and Yuzu still doesn’t think he’s above any of them. A triumph of humility in any other situation, surely, but not now. Not with this.

He tells himself to snap out of it and calls Javi, finding comfort in simply hearing the other’s voice. He lets Javi tell him about his apartment hunt officially ending, echoing his own excitement about finally getting to move out. He can’t bring himself to talk about the articles in depth and so he glosses over it, only mentioning his frustration that local tabloids won’t leave him alone.

Javi is kind; Yuzu tells himself that it’s enough.

They talk long and often, slowly chipping away at the days until Javi comes back to Japan for rehearsals for his upcoming show. Yuzu had already accepted a couple of engagements that would legitimize his being in Osaka at the same time, and it makes him feel less paranoid about what the tabloids might say.

It’s armor of a sort, and for a while the thought gives him some measure of comfort.

And then, a week before he’s scheduled to go to Osaka, the JSF pays him a visit.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

The first cracks appear when Javi returns to Japan, fully recharged from being home and ready to work. He’s been looking forward to seeing Yuzuru all month, and while he’s aware of the other’s ever-present problems with the media, he doesn’t know how bad it is until they finally see each other.

He arrives a couple of days before rehearsals are scheduled to start so that he can spend time with Yuzu, arranging for his own accommodations in the same hotel that the production would’ve eventually put him up in. Yuzu’s hotel is just down the street by design; they’d carefully planned it all out, and Javi is in high spirits right from the get-go.

When he opens the door, however, he is somewhat alarmed to discover a far more sedate version of his partner, their first embrace in over a month brief and lackluster.

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks when Yuzu doesn’t so much pull back from their hug as he _wilts_ out of it, dropping down into the chair next to the coffee table.

They’re in Javi’s room because they’d deemed it quieter than the larger hotel that the network had put Yuzu in, and he watches as the other picks up the jacket that he’s draped over the back of the chair. The embroidery on one of the letters is starting to fray, and he watches as Yuzu thumbs absently at the red thread.

“Need to talk,” he says. “But not sure how to start.”

_That doesn’t sound good._ Javi pulls up the opposite chair and slowly lowers himself into it. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything,” he says. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Yuzu says. “But still not sure how to say what I need to say.”

For a moment he says nothing further, lips moving slightly as if he’s rehearsing lines inside his head, and Javi’s consternation grows. Yuzu had seemed a little distant over the phone the past week, but Javi had chalked it up to the fact that he’d been concentrating on finishing up his coursework before coming out to Osaka. The tension between them now is unsettling, and Javi finds himself wondering if he’d completely misread their last few conversations.

“Yuzu,” he says slowly. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Yuzu’s eyes widen, startled. “No, of course not!”

It helps assuage the worst of Javi’s fears, and he sags a little in his chair. “Oh,” he says. “I was worried that you were about to say that you had to stop seeing me...”

Yuzu winces. “Well,” he says, biting his lip. “It’s little bit… about that.” He twists the jacket in his hands again before Javi reaches out and lays both hands on top of his, effectively stilling his movement.

“Talk to me,” he pleads. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out together.”

“JSF came to my house,” Yuzu blurts out. “Talked to okaasan. Tabloids writing about Javi in Sendai, writing about how I cancel interviews last minute. They write bad things about me, about how I should not be doing talks with children because I’m--”

He stands up abruptly, leaving Javi’s jacket on the chair. “JSF say I not keeping secret enough,” he says. “They say I need to do better.”

Javi watches Yuzu pace like a caged tiger, color high in his cheeks. “Maybe--” he continues, pausing slightly before barreling forward. “Maybe next time, we keep old plan. See Javi during Japanese show okay. Other times…” He shakes his head. “Surprise was nice. I very happy when you here. But maybe no more surprise.”

Yuzu gives him a significant look, and Javi blinks. “No more surprise visits… _ever?_ ” he asks.

The other’s silence speaks volumes, and Javi opens and closes his mouth, groping for a response. “I--” he pauses. “I’m not saying that I disagree with you, but last month was...” _The happiest I’ve seen you in the six years we’ve known each other. The moment when I was sure I was in love with you. Something I would never take back for all the gold medals in the world._

But he catches the desperate look in Yuzuru’s eyes-- _please don’t make this harder than it has to be_ \-- and Javi swallows down everything he wants to say.

“If you’re sure,” Javi says finally. “You know I didn’t mean for anyone to see me there. No one even came up to say hi or ask for a picture.”

“I’m sure,” Yuzu says, and the relief in his voice is so palpable that Javi actually has to hide a wince. “And I know you not do on purpose.”

He crosses the distance between them and throws his arms around Javi, squeezing him so tightly that he actually feels a little winded. It’s all the enthusiasm that he’d expected upon arrival, just thirty minutes late.

“Skating just too popular here,” Yuzu says, voice slightly muffled against Javi’s collar. “So many fans everywhere, even if they don’t want to bother you, they still talk about online. We need to be so careful to avoid them.”

“All right.” Javi closes his eyes and allows himself to hug Yuzu back, trying to muster a bit of his own previous excitement.

He’s glad that he can help ease Yuzuru’s mind about this, even if just a little bit, but it’s impossible not to feel a little hurt at the insinuation. Their handful of days together had meant so much to Javi, and for Yuzu to give it up in favor of the JSF stings more than he thought it would.

Javi holds him for a beat longer, then pulls back just enough to look into his eyes.

“Yuzu, are you--” he starts to say, and then he stops.

“Yes?” Yuzu prompts, when the silence stretches too long.

_Are you happy? Are you sure this is the kind of life you want?_ But it’s too much too soon, Javi knows, and he fears that he won’t like the answer that Yuzu will give him.

“Are you really sure about this?” he asks instead. “You’re still competing and I’ll go along with whatever you think is best, but...”

“I am,” Yuzu says firmly. “No more articles make JSF happy. If they happy, they stop complaining to okaasan.”

Javi sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Do you-- Should I still come to stay at your house after the tour is over? It might be easier if I just find a hotel.”

“Yes,” Yuzu says. “Our address very secret. No press, no one knows we live. Safer there than in hotel. We plan this well, don’t worry. It will be okay.”

He leans forward and gives Javi a kiss, soft and fitted. “Besides, parents want to know you better,” he says, smiling impishly. “Saya, too.”

It’s the smile that does it, because Javi has always been a sucker for seeing Yuzuru happy. It’s the smile that makes his heart feel several sizes too big for his chest, the smile that makes him think that a silver or a bronze is enough for him, because Yuzu is always so damned happy when he’s standing at the very top of the podium with Javi somewhere beside him.

_It’s worth it_ , Javi thinks, as Yuzu hugs him again, babbling about how he can feed Javi all of his favorite dishes growing up. He talks about how Saya’s English is better than his now, and how his father has built a small koi pond in the garden. He talks and Javi listens, trying to imagine himself staying in Yuzu’s home, safely hidden away from a country full of prying eyes, occupying the tiny space that is Yuzu’s life-outside-of-skating.

_I want that_ , Javi thinks.

_Don’t I?_

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Two days is all they get together, squeezed in before Javi has to officially begin rehearsals and carefully planned around Yuzu’s speaking engagements.

Yuzu knows that he could have delayed their big talk, but he also knows that if he hadn’t said it right away, he might have not said it at all. Javi has a way of completely relaxing him just by virtue of his presence, and while it’s one of the things that Yuzu adores about him, it also makes him dangerously complacent.

Because while he doesn’t regret Javi’s visit last month, he does regret the effect it inevitably has on his environment, like a stone tossed into an otherwise calm pond.

Of all the things that the JSF had said to him, it had been the insinuation that Yuzuru hadn’t been trying hard enough that had hurt the most. His mother’s face had been carefully blank throughout the entire conversation, but Yuzu had felt enough shame to last him a lifetime.

They might as well have called him a bitch in heat for all that he had not been able to face his mother’s eyes, Satou-san’s precise, clipped words about ‘restraint’ and ‘reputation’ ringing in his ears.

_He’d wanted the ground to swallow him whole._

It’s this thought that he carries with him while he talks to Javi about it, the utter humiliation of being so thoroughly dressed down in that unbearably polite way that the Japanese have, all deliberately done in front of his mother.

He’s planned for this conversation so carefully that he’s even prepared a list of counter-arguments in case Javi tries to talk him out of it, but to his surprise and relief, the other man acquiesces without complaint.

He isn’t out of the woods with the JSF yet, not by a long shot, but he’s confident that he can manage the relationship as long as Javi follows the plan.

Yuzu huffs a breath, leaning over and kissing Javi on the cheek. They’ve moved to the bed by now, half-heartedly playing Mario Kart on Javi’s Switch, and Javi looks at him with a small smile.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“Just thank you,” Yuzu says. They share another kiss, longer this time, and then he pulls away and chucks a Bob-omb at Javi’s kart. “Also, distraction.”

He wins the race, and giggles at Javi’s yelp of mock outrage.

***

Yuzuru ends up staying the night, too tired to make his way back to his hotel and not all that interested in the prospect of leaving Javi’s side. It will make his exit tomorrow afternoon a little trickier than leaving in the middle of the night would have, but he’s confident that he can make it work so long as Javi stays put. Once all the other skaters start to arrive, after all, the fact that either of them are there won’t seem amiss.

Jave makes no comment aside from asking him if he’s sure, and when Yuzu assures him that it’s fine, he doesn’t argue further.

_It must seem crazy to him,_ Yuzu thinks, as he sits on the bed in borrowed joggers and waits for Javi to finish his shower. _All the subterfuge that follows after I simply decide to spend the night._

He feels a pang of guilt, quick and sharp, and looks up just as Javi exits the bathroom. He’s already dimmed the bedside lamp and yellow light spills out from the open doorway behind Javi, framing him in a golden glow.

For a moment, Javi simply stays where he is, standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his hips, eyes wide and bright.

_They’re not okay_. Yuzu knows this in his gut, the way he knows in the split-second before a fall that he’s made a mistake during a jump, and he wants to make it right, _he does_ , but he doesn’t know _how_.

And so he gets up, goes to Javi and takes his hands.

“I missed you,” he says. A peace offering of sorts, and as always, Javi takes it.

“I missed you, too,” he says. “So much.” He says it like it’s a confession, a secret that should only be whispered in the dark.

Yuzu puts his arms around his neck and Javi pulls him close, folding into him like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You know I can make it work, right?” Yuzu says, voice low. “I follow JSF, we can be together.” He wishes he had more words, _better words_ , so that Javi would understand the depth of his commitment to him.

He can feel Javi nodding, and he pulls back, looks into his eyes. “We can,” Yuzu says again, and this time there’s enough steely determination in his voice that it makes Javi finally crack a smile. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Javi says. “I trust you.”

They embrace again, and this time it’s Javi who takes his hands, leading him to the bed.

The cracks are still there, Yuzu thinks, but for now they can set both their minds at ease, if only for a little while.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

The tour goes well.

It’s nice to hang out with Patrick and the others again, though Javi good-naturedly has to bear the requisite ‘old’ jokes that come with finally retiring at the ripe old age of twenty-six. It’s marginally more bearable because Patrick is older than him by a whole year.

“How’s Marina?” Patrick asks one night, when they’re grabbing a few beers at the hotel bar. “Busy making plans?”

Javi’s always been pretty candid about wanting a family someday, but the last time he’d mentioned it to Patrick had been years ago, when he’d been sure that Miki and Himawari would be where his path lay after retirement.

“Not really,” he says. “We actually broke up a few months ago.”

Patrick makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Is this the part where I tell you that there’s plenty of fish in the sea?”

“I’m actually--” Javi clears his throat, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m actually seeing someone else right now.”

Patrick blinks. “Really?” he asks. “I’m surprised you’re not posting it all over your Instagram. Usually you can’t shut up about your girl.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad, am I?” Javi asks. “I can be a private guy sometimes.”

Patrick snorts, shaking his head. “Sure you can,” he says. “Don’t make me bring up all that sappy stuff you post. I’m trying to be nice.”

He catches the look on Javi’s face and sighs, relenting. “Look, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” he says. “You’re just not the type to hold back about it, that’s all. I mean, I post pictures of Liz and I all the time, I just don’t get so… _mushy_.”

“ _Mushy?_ ” Javi laughs. “This is a word? _Mushy?_ ”

“Yeah, it’s the word for people who get incredibly soft about their girlfriends,” Patrick says. “Perfect word for you, really.”

Javi rolls his eyes. “Well, I just don’t see the point of hiding your feelings,” he says. “And it made Marina happy to know that I was thinking about her.” He polishes off the last of his beer, signals to the bartender for another round.

“You don’t sound too broken up about it,” Patrick observes. “I take it you’re still friends?”

“Sort of,” Javi says. “As much as we can be, I guess. She met another guy and I couldn’t blame her for wanting someone who could be with her all the time. And after we broke up, I started seeing someone that I--” He pauses as the bartender sidles up, silently depositing their drinks in front of them before stepping away again.

“Someone that I really, really like,” he finishes. He picks at the label on his beer, scraping at the gold laminate. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with them.”

Perhaps it’s the catch in his voice that gives him away, or maybe his distinct lack of pronouns, because Patrick’s voice finally loses the teasing tone. “I take it there’s a reason I’m not seeing you gush about it all over your socials, then?” he asks quietly.

Javi doesn’t respond for a moment, continuing to peel the label on his beer as Patrick patiently waits him out.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon,” he finally says. The label comes off in his hand, grubby and water-logged. Javi drops it onto the counter with a grimace.

“I’m fine with it, really,” he continues. “All that silly stuff I used to do with Marina-- it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together, I’m happy. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it’s like… It’s a small price to pay if it means we can be together. And I’m fine with that.”

“Say it one more time and I’ll believe you,” Patrick jokes, but there’s a quiet sort of sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Javi insists. “ _Really_.” And this time Patrick doesn’t say anything at all.

They have a few more rounds in silence, until Javi is well and truly on his way to getting shit-faced, and when he tries to signal for another beer, Patrick asks for the tab instead.

“Come on, Romeo,” he says. “I’m calling it.” He claps a hand on Javi’s shoulder, helping him up from the stool.

He’s nice enough to make sure that Javi finds his room okay, and as Javi shoves his key card into the slot, Patrick speaks up.

“Look, it’s probably not my place to say this,” he says. “But we’ve been friends for a while, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this over _anyone_. I’m glad that you’re happy, but just… try to remember that you’re a good guy, okay? And that there’s nothing wrong with being who you are. Your real friends will accept you no matter what, and so should whoever you’re dating.”

Javi’s throat closes up at that, and he nods slowly, not quite trusting himself to speak. “Thanks,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll try to remember.”

Patrick gives him a gentle shove into his room. “Great. Now get in there and sleep it off,” he says. “We’ve got a show tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to dumping water on your head.”

* * *

**YUZURU.**

For all that Toronto has been Yuzu’s official address for the past six years, there is something about his family’s Sendai home that makes him feel truly at peace.

It’s ridiculous because it’s not the house that Yuzu had grown up in, and in logical terms there’s no reason for him to feel so attached to it. The Hanyus had moved here about a year after the disaster of 2011, a home selected for its quiet neighborhood and dedication to privacy, and it had been a place where Yuzu had spent the quiet parts of his summers, enjoying his time with his father and sister in relative peace.

It’s the place that he goes when he needs to rest, his small refuge in a world that sometimes feels too loud and too big.

It’s his oasis, and he can’t wait to share it with Javi.

“Stop fussing,” Saya says, when she catches him straightening the couch cushions for the third time that day. “You’ve been cleaning all day, the house is spotless.”

Yuzu flushes, dropping the pillow. “I just want Javi to be comfortable,” he says. “He’s been really kind about everything that’s been happening lately, and I just...” He perches on the edge of the couch, sighing.

“I know that I’ve been asking so much of him, and I want him to be able to relax while he’s here.”

Saya nods. “I understand that,” she says. “But perfectly arranged couch cushions aren’t going to help him relax. He seems like the kind of guy that’ll probably just want to spend time with you.”

“Well. You’re not wrong,” Yuzu admits. “I just feel like I want to do something extra special for him.”

“Well, maybe you can start by dumping Rinko.”

Yuzu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right,” he says, then stops short at the look on his sister’s face. “Saya… you _know_ I’m not dating Rinko. I can’t break up with someone if I’m not dating them in the first place. Javi knows that.”

“I’m sure he does,” Saya says evenly. “So maybe you don’t do it for Javi, and maybe you do it for yourself instead.”

Yuzu stares at her, but Saya returns his gaze without flinching. He’d have to be both deaf and blind not to notice that his sister hasn’t been happy with his arrangement with Rinko, but this is the first time she’s actually said anything outright.

“I respect your opinion,” Yuzu says slowly. “But this is… not the right time to bring this up.”

Their mother had left to pick Javi up at the station almost an hour ago, and they should be back any minute. The last thing Yuzuru wants is for him to walk in on he and his sister having it out over his life choices.

“I know it’s not,” Saya responds. “And I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t hold back anymore. I understand why you’re doing all of this with Rinko, but I just worry about you, Yuzu.” She gives him a small, sad smile. “Big sister’s prerogative.”

“It’s so complicated,” he starts to say, but they’re interrupted from navigating the rest of the conversation by the quiet click of their front door lock turning. He shoots her a pleading glance-- _drop it, please--_ which Saya agrees to with a silent nod, before crossing to the foyer.

Their mother is already hanging up their jackets and Javi greets him with a smile, looking a little rumpled from travel but none the worst for wear.

“Hi,” he says, toeing off his shoes just as Yuzu throws his arms around his neck. Javi huffs out a laugh as he catches him around the waist, patting his back a little before giving Saya an awkward wave. “And hello, Saya.”

“Happy to see you, Javier,” she replies in accented English, throwing her brother an amused glance. “Though not as happy as Yuzu, maybe.”

“ _Yuzu, can you please help him with his suitcase?_ ” Their mother says in Japanese, shaking her head in exasperation. “Our apologies, Javier. Yuzu is very excited all week. Forgets manners.”

Javi smiles, shaking his head. “It’s all right, Yumi,” he says. “I really don’t mind. Yuzu, I’ll help bring my things up, okay?”

Yuzu shakes his head, already picking up the heavy suitcase so it doesn’t drag on their hardwood floors. “No, you are guest,” he says. “Okaasan right. Come, I show you where to wash up.”

Javi exchanges a few more words with Saya and his mother before following after him, and Yuzu points out the adjoining bathroom when they get to his room.

“Go ahead,” he says, setting down the suitcase with a thump. His room isn’t large but it’s spacious enough by Japanese standards, and his parents had agreed to lay out the spare futon here. Not that it’s going to see much use, but Yuzu supposes that appearances have to be maintained. “I go make you tea now.”

“Yuzu, wait,” Javi says, catching him gently by the wrist. “Now isn’t the right time, but can I have a minute later? I’d like to talk a bit.”

“Okay,” Yuzu says easily. “Lots of time to talk later. I make you snack first, you must be very hungry.”

He gives Javi’s hand a last squeeze before stepping away, unable to wipe the broad smile from his face. Javi’s here, his family is all together, and best of all, there has been no news about Osaka beyond what Yuzu had officially gone there for.

_Life is good._

* * *

**JAVIER.**

Stepping out of the shower and into fresh clothes goes a long way to making Javi feel human again, the long train ride coupled with his perennial ‘disguise’ of a beanie and sunglasses significantly draining. He’d been extra careful this time, choosing a seat in the back of the last car and simply dozing for the duration of the journey. Even his exodus, which comprised of meeting up with Yumi in her nondescript car, had been very straightforward.

Either way, the train station had had a lot less foot traffic than the airport, and Javi hopes that the precautions they’d taken had been enough. Yuzuru had planned all of this out, after all; if it still isn’t enough, Javi doesn’t know what his next move is going to be.

And therein lays the problem.

Patrick had meant well during their talk, but his words had inadvertently brought up some hard realities that Javi had not wanted to examine previously.

He wants to talk to Yuzu about it, but he’s cognizant enough to know that he needs to find the right time. Javi is worried about how fast he’s falling and he needs to know that Yuzu is there with him, that whatever sacrifices he asks of him will not simply be _expected,_ but _respected_ as well.

Javi catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he looks as tired as he feels, exhausted from the exertion of his performances and too much time spent _thinking_.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, schooling his features into something more pleasantly neutral, and heads outside to spend time with Yuzu.

***

His first day there is pleasant enough, with Yuzu doting on Javi and taking great delight in feeding him what seems like every favorite dish he has had since he was a boy. He spends most of the afternoon cooking with his mother while Javi hovers in the background, trying to help but sweetly admonished for doing so.

“Javi need to relax,” Yuzu says, patting his cheek. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

It’s a nice feeling, and though Javi makes a half-hearted try to talk that first night after dinner, he foregoes it due to exhaustion. Yuzu pulls him into his bed and wraps his arms around him, kissing his eyes, his cheek, his jaw.

“So happy you’re here,” he whispers. “Sleepy Javi.”

Javi manages a smile, kissing back when Yuzu finally presses his lips against his mouth.

Then sleep overtakes him, and he’s out like a light.

By the time he wakes up and stumbles out of the bathroom, it’s past ten and the most wonderful smells are wafting throughout the house. The rest of the family is already up and going about their day, but Yuzu beams at him from the kitchen table and waves him over.

“Waited for Javi,” he says, getting up to put his laptop away. “So we can eat together.”

This is the second time he’s seen Yuzuru this way, completely relaxed and apparently in vacation mode, and Javi shakes himself a bit at the contrast. He wants to enjoy it but in the back of his mind he can’t help but remember the desperate look in Yuzuru’s eyes when he had asked Javi to stave off his impromptu visits, and he hates himself for thinking of it.

Javi thanks him and kisses his cheek before sitting down at the table, and as they tuck into their breakfast, he asks Yuzu what he’d like to do today.

“Oh,” Yuzu says, blinking. “I actually only stay home, when in Sendai. I’m away for so much time, when I’m home, I don’t really go out.” He puts down his chopsticks, tapping his chin. “But if there is anything you want, tell me and I get it for you. If you want other food, many places deliver. Or if shopping, there is overnight mail.”

He pretends to pout. “You’re not tired of our food already?” he asks. “I have three other dishes to make for you.”

Javi chuckles in spite of himself, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine,” he says. It’s a big difference from whenever Javi is home, always wanting to go out with friends and soak up his city, but he can roll with an easygoing staycation, too. “I like everything that you and Yumi make.”

“Good,” Yuzu says, and squeezes his hand.

It isn’t until that evening when Javi realizes exactly what he’s gotten himself into, as Yumi and Yuzu putter around the kitchen making dinner. Yumi reaches for her jar of flour and is dismayed to find it empty, showing it to Yuzu and (presumably, because she’s speaking in a rapid-fire Japanese that Javi can’t hope to follow) asking him to nip out to the store to get more.

Javi gets up from the couch as Yuzu grabs his jacket. “Maybe I can go to the store for you?” he asks. “Just tell me what you need and I’m sure I can find it.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Yuzu says. “Okaasan wants specific thing. Hard to find. I go, Javi just stay and rest.”

He’s already got his jacket on and is smiling distractedly, but Javi follows him to the door. “I kind of want to stretch my legs a little too, to be honest,” he says. “If you give me a second to grab my jacket, I can come with you?”

Yuzuru’s shoulders slump a bit, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, Javi,” he says. “Too public, remember?”

He looks genuinely apologetic so Javi swallows down his protest of ‘ _the convenience store_ _down the street is_ _too public? Really?_ ’, and nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Yuzu steps closer, brushes his lips against Javi’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

Then he’s out the door and Javi is left standing there, blinking, until Saya comes through the door, almost running into him some minutes later.

“Javier?” she asks quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yuzu just went out for a bit. To get something from the store.”

Perhaps his poker face isn’t as good as Javi thinks, or Saya is just more perceptive than he gives her credit for, because her face softens and she nods. “Do you want to sit in living room with me?” she asks. “I taking English lessons, and now maybe a good time to practice.”

Javi recognizes the lifeline and takes it, waiting for Saya to put away her laptop bag in the foyer before joining him.

“Please,” she says, sitting primly on the couch across from him and smiling. “Tell me more about your family?”

***

That night, Javi is finally feeling recovered enough to sit down with Yuzuru in his room. He’s glad that he’d waited til now because he wants to talk with his mind clear, without exhaustion coloring his judgment.

Yuzu, for his part, has always been sensitive when he’s of a mind to be, and he can sense that something is up; he’s quiet during dinner despite Javi’s polite conversation with his family, and nods when Javi asks him to retire after helping with the dishes.

They sit side-by-side on the bed, and Javi reaches out to take Yuzuru’s hands in his. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately,” he confesses. “I had some time to myself on the tour, and I was trying to finish my plans for Revolution and setup some meetings and things, and I thought about which parts of our schedules might match after summer.”

He smiles crookedly, shrugging. “I’ve done the long distance thing and I know it’s hard, with you going back to Canada and me at home,” he says. “But I really want to be with you, and I really want to try.”

Yuzu looks at him intently; his words are sweet, but they’re also a reiteration of previous conversations. “But…?” he prompts.

“But I need to know that you want this, too,” Javi says honestly. “You know I’ve always been--” He gropes for the word. “More low-key than you. Skating not being popular in Spain is a blessing and a curse, and in the case of my private life, it’s a blessing.”

He gives a rueful smile. “Maybe not so nice when I’m trying to get funding for camps, but...”

The look that Yuzu gives him is open but a bit puzzled, and Javi bites his lip.

“Javi… do you think I’m not wanting to be with you?” he asks slowly.

“No, I think that--” Javi runs a hand through his hair. “I think that it’s so easy to be together when it’s just us. And I _know_ that you really like being with me. But it’s only going to get harder from here. The press, your fans, the JSF--”

Yuzu’s face darkens at the mention of his federation, but Javi presses on. “Relationships are about compromise,” he says. “Give and take. And I’m afraid that there are a lot of things that the JSF won’t allow you to compromise on, and--”

He stops then, unable to continue. _I don’t think you’d choose me_.

They sit in silence for a moment as he gives Yuzu time to digest everything he’s said, and finally the other man nods. “I understand why Javi worries,” he says. “I do many things because of JSF, _for_ JSF, and I also feel...” He frowns. “ _Pressure._ So much pressure from them.”

“But Javi...” he turns to him and takes his hands in his. “It’s worth the effort. I keep trying, because I love you.”

* * *

**YUZURU.**

The night before Javi is scheduled to leave, mother asks Yuzu to hang back in the kitchen. Javi needs to pack, and Yumi urges him off with a nod, telling him in English that Yuzu will help her finish the dishes.

“Is everything okay?” Yuzu asks, switching to Japanese as soon as Javi has disappeared into his room.

In response, his mother hands him a soapy dish, which Yuzuru obediently rinses under the tap. “I wanted to ask you that, actually,” his mother responds evenly. “These past few days, I couldn’t help but notice that Javier has been a bit more quiet than I have usually observed him to be.”

The fact that Yuzu can’t answer her right away is telling, he knows, but he wants to gather his thoughts before he speaks. His mother has always been a sharp woman, and in many ways, Yuzu considers his career part _hers_. She had given up half of their family in sacrifice of his needs, after all, and he wants to honor that.

“The past week has been hard on us,” Yuzu admits. “It’s one thing to be my friend and see it all from the outside, but another to be my partner and be in it with me. I come with a lot of--” He shrugs helplessly. “Baggage.”

Yumi nods. “He isn’t happy with your arrangement with Rinko?” she asks.

“Among other things,” Yuzu says. “But he says that he supports me and wants to continue seeing each other after our tour next month.”

“And what do you want?” his mother asks, and Yuzu’s head snaps up in shock.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yumi chides calmly. “I respect and appreciate Javier, but you are my priority. Are _you_ happy continuing on like this?”

“ _Okaasan..._ ” Yuzu shakes his head. “How can you ask me that? You know how I feel about the arrangement with Rinko, but I bear with it because I want to be with him. I wouldn’t do any of this if I didn’t love him.”

He says the words fiercely, in stark contrast to Yumi’s preternatural calm. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, agreeing to support you so fully with your dreams,” she muses, and shakes her head at Yuzu’s confused look. “If I had vetoed your request to train with Brian Orser, you would have stayed in Japan. You would know your own culture more.”

“I don’t understand,” Yuzu says.

“Love is sacrifice,” Yumi says. “Because we love you, your father and I decided to be apart for the greater part of each year. We do this without complaint, without issue, without question. I have no doubt that you love Javier, and that he very likely loves you, but he is not Japanese. He doesn’t understand this way of loving, this sacrifice that puts the one you love before yourself.”

She shrugs. “I doubt many of the young people your age would, to be honest,” she says. “But you would have a better chance at finding someone in Japan who would understand what comes with your status, and what their role should be in your life.”

She hands him the final plate, and Yuzuru rinses it mechanically. “It would be easier with a Japanese partner,” she says. “And I worry that you will get hurt if you stay with Javier, in the long run.”

Her words are like a bucket of cold water to the face. It’s a dose of reality coming from a woman who has put him first her entire life, and Yuzu wonders, not for the first time, if he’s really as selfish as she makes him sound.

“You’re right that it would be easier,” he says finally, proud that his voice doesn’t break. “And I could win a hundred more medals and still not come close to repaying you for all your sacrifices. I can only hope that if I ever have children, I can support them as selflessly as you and _otousan_ have done for me. But I don’t think I want that kind of love with my partner. Even if it’s not Javi, I would be ashamed to make our lives only about me.”

“Yuzuru, your career--”

“Is so important to so many people, I know,” Yuzu says quietly. “But perhaps, this one small thing… it could be mine, yes?”

Yumi says nothing for a moment, studying him. Then she nods once, and turns away. “Perhaps,” she says somberly. “You have grown more Western than I thought.”

Yuzu doesn’t know whether she sounds more disappointed in him or herself, and he doesn’t stay to find out.

He quietly bids her good night, and retreats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might surmise, this was a tough one to write. ;_; I knew that I wanted to delve into some seriously heavy topics regarding love and all of its facets, and that I didn’t want anyone to appear like a caricature of themselves. I hope that no one is too angry at the way I wrote Yumi, as I tried to lay out her concerns and wishes for her son in the most sympathetic way that I could. I’m also a mom, and I wanted to depict both the good side and bad side to the level of her devotion to Yuzu, and the effects that it has on him as an adult in terms of how he perceives the world around him. 
> 
> As always, I would love to hear what you guys think! :)
> 
> BONUS: If you need a pick-me-up, check out this awesome video of Javi and Patrick doing a Minecraft Let’s Play. XD (They both suck at it; it’s hilarious). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABf69t4HdV0&t


	8. Chapter 8

**JAVIER.**

_Madrid._

It feels like a lifetime since he’s been home, even though in reality he’s only been away less than a month. Laura picks him up at the airport and drives him to his new apartment, the furniture he’d ordered before leaving for Japan finally installed.

The couch smells like plastic and leather; Javi takes great pleasure in ripping it free of its wrapping, shredding the thin material.

“Wow, what’d the couch ever do to you?” Laura asks, taking a seat as soon as he gathers up the bits of plastic and packing tape. “I thought you’d be a lot more relaxed after spending a week in Sendai.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Javi mutters, dropping into the couch beside her. “It wasn’t--”

His phone dings; a message from Yuzu, asking if he’s home. Javi puts the phone face-down on his coffee table (a rich, shiny new mahogany), and turns to Laura instead.

“It didn’t feel right,” he says. “And I don’t know why.”

Laura gives him a considering look. “You love him,” she says. “You wouldn’t look so wrecked if you didn’t.”

“Of course I do,” Javi replies. “It’s everything else that’s the problem.” He scrubs his hands over his face, shaking his head.

Laura waits with the patience of a saint but Javi’s had this conversation before, half-drunk over beers with Patrick Chan. He doesn’t need to hear it again, and he knows that Laura is even more fiercely protective of him than his friend.

“I’ll get over it,” Javi says. “It’s always like this with someone new. I just need a little time to adjust.”

He reaches over and squeezes her hand, ignoring the worried look that she fixes on him.

“So,” he says. “How are you and Enrique?”

***

With Laura’s help, Javi accomplishes a great deal during his month in Madrid. They finalize plans for Revolution on Ice, get funding for one skating camp and start the wheels turning on another two for the future.

Olympic medals open doors, apparently, and Javi uses every bit of what his name is worth. He also gets in some quality time with his friends, even getting coffee with Marina and her new beau once, and for the first time in a long time, he starts to feel like himself again.

Yuzu’s presence in his life melts into the background as a pleasant constant, ironically _helping_ their relationship by virtue of being long distance. Javi misses the physical side of their relationship, of course, but the truly packed schedule that he contends with helps him feel it _less_.

Because on video and over the phone, Yuzu seems less troubled nowadays, and Javi can feel it halfway across the world. He’s skating again and the tabloids are chasing some other scandal for once, and Javi takes it as an opportunity to connect with him on a more emotional level.

Strangely enough, it’s kind of… _nice_. Like being a boy again, staying up late to talk to someone he likes. It never fails to amuse him that after six years of partnership, he’s constantly still finding out new things about Yuzuru.

“Javi should buy my book,” Yuzu jokes once, after he makes him recount one of his earlier skating memories.

“But I like it when you tell me,” Javi responds. It’s late and he’s lying in bed with his tablet on his lap, watching as Yuzu finishes up his morning stretch. He blows Javi a kiss as he gets up, stripping off his shirt and tossing it in the hamper in the corner of his room.

“You look good,” Javi says warmly. “Ankle not bothering you anymore?”

“Not anymore. I feel ready,” Yuzu says, smiling. The angle changes as he picks up his laptop, presumably placing it on his desk in lieu of the floor. “I’m excited about our tour.”

They’ve got less than a week to go before Javi has to fly back to Japan for _Fantasy_ , and he’s both looking forward to and dreading it. Something in his expression must give him away, because Yuzu stops toweling off and steps closer to the screen, propping his chin up in his hand.

“Javi still thinking about Rinko?” he asks softly.

Two weeks ago, Yuzu had broken the news that Rinko would be traveling with him during the tour. He hadn’t had to explain why; their friendly play on the ice had been the subject of fan speculation for years, and they hadn’t even been sleeping together yet.

Javi understands why Yuzu thinks her presence is warranted, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “I just feel like we could handle it without her,” he says, trying to choose his words with care. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I _can_ actually control myself around you.”

He means it as a joke, but his tone is sharper than he intends. Yuzu bites his lip. “I know,” he says. “I just thinking… anything we do could be bad. If we stay away from each other in show, people talk. If we act like always, people talk.”

“Rinko says she will need to work on trip anyway,” he continues. “So maybe you won’t see much. She is so quiet.”

That doesn’t go a long way towards making Javi feel much better, either; in fact, it sounds like all three of them will be miserable.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Javi says finally. He tries for a smile, manages to make it halfway. “I love you, Yuzu.”

Yuzu nods, echoing the words, then mimes pressing a kiss to the screen. Javi’s smile becomes a lot more genuine. “There it is,” Yuzu says softly. “I miss seeing smile. Good night, sleepy Javi.”

He waves goodbye as they sign off, and Javi tucks the tablet away on his side table, turning off his lamp with a flick of his wrist.

He’s bone tired, but sleep comes slowly that night nonetheless.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

The first person that Yuzu sees when he arrives at the hotel in Makuhari is Johnny Weir, which very nearly sends him turning around and walking straight outside again.

Johnny’s dressed in a purple velvet coat and matching leather pants, three designer suitcases parked beside him. Beside Yuzu, Rinko pauses, tilting her head up at him.

“Yuzuru,” she says, speaking softly in Japanese. “ _I believe that man is trying to get your attention._ ”

“ _Thank you, I see him,_ ” Yuzu replies, hyper-aware of the other guests milling about. Johnny waves enthusiastically as Yuzuru and Rinko make their way across the lobby.

“Hello, Johnny.” Yuzu switches to English, bowing. “How are you?”

“ _Fabulous._ Exhausting flight and all, but I’m not going to complain,” Johnny says, before fixing his wide smile on Rinko. “And who is this young lady?”

“Ah, this is Yamamoto Rinko, my-- _companion_ \-- from Sendai,” Yuzu says, stuttering slightly. “Rinko, this is Johnny Weir. But maybe no introduction necessary. Johnny is legend on ice.”

Rinko bows at the waist, smiling. “I am honored to meet you, Weir-san,” she says in accented English, smiling faintly as they exchange obligatory pleasantries. Johnny is obviously curious about her presence but politely holds back, and eventually the conversation tapers out and Rinko bows again.

“I am certain you have much to catch up,” she says. “I will complete our check-in.”

She withdraws to the counter and leaves them to it, with Yuzu shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another. “I take it that Rinko isn’t a new assistant, then?” Johnny asks.

It’s a bit of an overstep as far as small talk goes, but when Yuzu darts a glance at Johnny, he appears perfectly composed. He’s got his public face on, the one that looks pleasantly neutral but gives nothing away, and Yuzu finds himself shaking his head.

“No,” he says. “She is my personal guest.”

“Ah,” Johnny says. Neither his face nor tone waver, but he tilts his head and meets Yuzu’s eyes. His face has little of the innocent softness that had so mesmerized Yuzu as a boy; Johnny is steel now, glittering and hard. “Be careful, Yuzuru. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

Before Yuzu can even think of a response to that, a harried-looking bellboy approaches them.

“Weir-san?” he asks, and Johnny nods. “Room ready. May I take bags?”

“Please do,” Johnny says, beaming. He nods at Yuzu as the bellboy escorts him to the elevator banks, chattering away about his upcoming spa appointment and the man’s excellent timing.

Yuzu watches him disappear in a flurry of purple velvet, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Javi’s displeasure at Rinko’s presence is one thing, but he belated realizes that he may have miscalculated the reactions of the other skaters. Just because Yuzu isn’t best friends with all of them doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care what they think, and Johnny’s surprisingly insightful comment unsettles him.

Rinko appears at his elbow with another bellboy in tow, handing him the keycards to their suite.

“Shall we?”

***

Javi is one of the last skaters to finally arrive, his flight having been delayed almost half a day. Yuzu is at his room within minutes when he gets his text, stepping into his embrace as soon as the door shuts behind him.

“Hello,” Javi says, eyes crinkling at the corners. He pulls back just enough to brush his lips against Yuzu’s. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Yuzu says warmly, then leans in to kiss him again. “Roommate?”

“Patrick,” Javi replies, chuckling when Yuzu can’t quite help the face he makes. “Relax, he went out with Scott and Tessa for dinner. They probably won’t be back ‘til later.”

“Javi not go with them?” Yuzu asks, and Javi shakes his head.

“Another time,” he says. “I wanted to see you first.”

They decide to order room service and stay in, Yuzu making the arrangements as Javi jumps into the shower. He orders what he thinks is a good balance between protein and fiber, trying to approximate the meals that he has during competitions, and by the time Javi’s out and dressed in comfortable-looking sweats, the food arrives.

He hangs back as Javi gets up to let the waiter in, busying himself with his phone until they’re alone once more. The food is good, clean-tasting and flavorful, and they spend dinner catching up on their respective plans after the tour.

Javi lights up when he talks about how well _Revolution on Ice_ is coming together, and Yuzu expresses his own regret that he can’t perform for him. It’s late in the year, right in the middle of competition season, and he reaches out to take Javi’s hand, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“When I retire,” he promises. “Nothing can keep me away.”

The door lock beeps before Javi can respond, and Yuzu drops his hand just as the door swings open.

“I wasn’t sure if you were into pie, but--” Patrick stands in the doorway, blinking. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. Hi, Yuzuru.”

He holds up a small take-away container. “You want some pie? There’s only one slice but you guys can share if you want.”

“We were just catching up,” Javi says, rising from the coffee table and making a show of inspecting the bag. “Chocolate? You’re killing me, man.”

Patrick chuckles. “Blame Scott,” he says. “He said it was cheaper to just get a whole one and split it, but he ended up eating half.”

He passes by the coffee table where their dinner had been setup, where Yuzu is attempting to fade into his chair in an effort to make the scene look like anything but a _date_.

“You guys should come out with us next time,” Patrick continues. “We found a really nice Italian place just a couple of blocks down. Great risotto.”

“Next time,” Javi replies, nodding.

“Of course,” Yuzu echoes. He sees the chance to flee and takes it, getting to his feet as Patrick shrugs off his jacket. “Good to see you, Javi. Patrick. I should go now, early day tomorrow.”

“Sure you don’t want the pie?” Javi asks. He walks him to the door but Yuzu shakes his head, wrinkling his nose.

“All yours,” he says. “Good night, Javi.” He cranes his neck to wave at Patrick, then brushes his fingers against Javi’s hand before retreating into the hall.

As he heads to his suite, Yuzu makes a mental note to ask Javi up to see him next time. The room he’d been given has a separate bedroom, and even if Rinko deigns to stay, they’ll have more privacy than they would at Javi’s.

It’s not that Yuzu doesn’t trust Patrick-- he may not be his favorite person in the world but he knows he’s not the type for idle gossip-- but the less people know about them, the better.

Of course, Javi hasn’t officially met Rinko yet, which would probably make things awkward, but Yuzu intends to rectify that situation soon enough.

***

The following morning, Yuzu heads down to breakfast with Rinko in tow. Their group has occupied one of the longer tables, and he deliberately takes a seat at the far end. Javi joins them shortly thereafter, looking none the worse for wear despite his late night.

Yuzu makes the requisite introductions, unable to miss the tense line of his partner’s shoulders. Beside him, Rinko is completely poised.

“Pleased to finally meet you,” Javi says, then adds sardonically: “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Yuzu winces, but Rinko’s face betrays nothing, her polite mask firmly in place. “I am honored, Fernandez-san.”

She turns back to her menu and Yuzu is drawn into small talk with the other skaters around them; Stéphane has launched into an amusing story about his students at Champéry, and the conversation flows easily.

Rinko finishes breakfast first and excuses herself, withdrawing quietly with a bow. Javi raises a brow at Yuzu, as if to ask why he isn’t escorting her up, and Yuzu nods at the small suitcase by his side. He’s brought his gear down with him, having intended to go straight to the practice rink after breakfast.

“I have to go back up for mine,” Javi says. “So I’ll meet you there?”

The others have mostly left or gone back up to their rooms by now, and only Johnny and Evgeni are left, chatting quietly at the other end of the table. No matter how many times Yuzu has performed in shows with them, he can never quite get over seeing them in such a mundane setting.

He turns back to Javi, smiling faintly. “Okay,” he says. “We have evening free later. Do you want to…?”

“I promised Patrick I’d join them tonight,” Javi replies, apologetic. “Most of the group is going out for dinner and I kind of want to catch up with everyone. But you’re more than welcome to come along if you want...?”

Yuzu wrinkles his nose. “Next time.” He doesn’t relish the thought of crowds, and he’s never been one to join the group outings that Javi so enjoys.

Javi eyes him for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether he wants to attempt to persuade him, but then appears to think better of it.

“Yeah,” he says, tone going just this shade of flat. “I’ll see you at the rink, then.”

* * *

**JAVIER.**

They’re mid-way through the tour when Patrick finally comes out and asks Javi if he’s dating Yuzu.

He’s been snatching time with him on the sly whenever they can, and Patrick would have to be deaf and blind not to have noticed his frequent absences. To his credit, though, he waits until they’re completely alone in their room, playing video games on Javi’s Switch, before blithely throwing out the question.

“Are you and Yuzu a thing now?” he asks, and Javi sputters, messing up his controls and abruptly crashing his kart.

He hits pause and gives Patrick an incredulous look, but the other man only shrugs. “I was waiting for you to say something, but you never did.”

“Maybe because it’s private,” Javi says pointedly. Patrick only continues to stare at him in that really unnerving way he has, and finally Javi relents, throwing up his hands.

“Look, what do you want me to say?” he asks. “You probably already figured it out when you walked in on us the night I got here. We’re seeing each other, it’s a secret, no one can know, end of story.”

Patrick’s mouth twitches into a moue of disapproval, but he’s polite enough not to press. _Much_. “And Rinko?”

“She’s his new favorite accessory, what do you think?” Javi snaps, and then immediately cringes. “ _Shit_. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Patrick waves him away. “It’s fine,” he says. “You know, it’s kind of hard not to notice that you’ve been acting weird lately. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Javi says. “Maybe?” He runs a hand through his hair, knowing that his behavior must have seemed erratic to his friend, yo-yo’ing from utterly blissful after spending a few hours with Yuzu, to downright morose after snapping back to the reality of the rest of their situation.

Rinko has been polite and unobtrusive to a fault, after all, always quick to make herself scarce whenever Javi drops by their suite, but the more polite and unobtrusive that she is, the more upset Javi feels.

It’s incredibly uncharitable and very unlike him, and it’s starting to make him feel a little sick inside.

“I know I’m acting crazy,” Javi admits. “She hasn’t been rude or anything, but...” He shakes his head. “I hate the fact that she’s here.”

Patrick makes a sympathetic noise, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. “I’m wildly out of my depths, man,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure that I’m not the person you should be telling all of this to.”

Javi shakes his head. “What am I going to do? Tell Yuzuru to send Rinko home because I’m jealous of their _lack_ of a relationship?” Even to his own ears, he sounds completely ridiculous. “It’s only two more weeks. I can _deal_ with two more weeks.”

Patrick makes a face that says he doesn’t entirely believe Javi, but he’s agreeing with him because he feels sorry for him. “If you’re sure,” he says.

“I’m sure,” Javi replies. He unpauses the game and restarts the level, turning back to the screen with all the intensity of a competition skate.

It effectively ends the discussion, and Patrick picks up his controller with a sigh.

***

They’re on the final weekend of the tour, bunking down in a fancy hotel in Shizuoka, when Javi’s curiosity finally gets the better of him. Yuzu asks him up to his suite and Javi is actually early for once, and when he rings the doorbell, it’s Rinko who lets him inside.

Her laptop is open on the desk by the window, and she nods at him as she begins to gather her things.

“Yuzuru will be back soon,” she says. “I will work in cafe in lobby.”

It’s a familiar dance by this time, and maybe it’s the fact that the tour is almost over or maybe it’s just his own curiosity, but Javi _has_ to know.

“Wait,” he says, calling out to her just as she reaches the door. “Before you go… I have to ask. What are you getting out of this?”

Rinko’s forehead creases in confusion, her hand on the door handle. “This?” she asks.

“ _This._ Your work,” Javi nods at the laptop in her hands. “Seems important to you. Surely it must be inconvenient to drop everything and follow a man you barely know around Japan.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Yumi said he hardly spoke to you at school, so it certainly isn’t for friendship,” he says. “So why go to all this trouble?”

Rinko pauses. “I suppose… you would call it honor,” she says slowly. “Yuzuru has done much for Sendai. He continues to do as much as he can, always. Even now, after everything he has given, he still gives _more_. I help him so he can continue to help many others.”

“At the cost of yourself?” Javi challenges. “Your own career? Maybe even finding a real love of your own?”

Rinko nods slowly. “My work is research, writing; both online. I can do anywhere. Love… I do not have anyone yet, and have no plans for now. What I do for Yuzuru is a small thing, so he can do big things for our city.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, almost apologetically:

“I do not expect you to understand,” she says. “You are not Japanese.”

Javi opens his mouth and then closes it without speaking; he feels like he’s been insulted somehow, but Rinko’s face betrays nothing.

“I really must go,” she says. “Excuse me.”

The door shuts softly behind her.

By the time Yuzuru comes back, Javi has been stewing in his own irritation for a good half hour. He’s perfunctory with his greeting and prickly in demeanor, his previous enthusiasm at spending the afternoon with Yuzu all but gone.

“What’s wrong?” Yuzu asks finally, putting his tea cup down. They’d ordered room service and shared a high tea set, but Javi hadn’t been able to muster much conversation. “Javi so quiet.”

“Just... thinking,” Javi admits. “Rinko was here when I came up. We spoke.”

Yuzu inclines his head. “She make you like this?” he asks, puzzled.

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Javi throws his hands up. “She said some things that made me wonder if I’ll ever really understand Japanese culture. I thought I kind of got it with Miki, but--”

He lets out a huff of laughter. “For all that she loves Japan, I think Miki stopped caring about what people thought of her when she got pregnant. We got some snide comments when we started dating, and I told her that we should just announce it properly so people would stop,” Javi says. “And it turned out that I was right.”

“Miki is girl,” Yuzu says. “It’s not same.”

“An unmarried woman with a young daughter, dating a foreigner,” Javi counters. “Of course it’s not the same, Yuzu, but it was hardly a fairytale, either. Not with everyone constantly judging her, talking about her behind her back. It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but it’s not _impossible_ \--”

“I am not Miki,” Yuzu breaks in. “I understand why you say about her, but it is… not nice to hear you talk about how ex-girlfriend so much better than me.”

Javi winces. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you mean,” Yuzu says. “I’m not angry, I just...” He reaches out and takes Javi’s hand. “Of course it would be easier if I am like Miki. If I can stop thinking about JSF and media and just do what I want. But Miki is retired. When I retire, things will change.”

His voice takes on a pleading note. “I just need a little more time,” he says. “ _Please._ ”

It’s about as close to begging as Javi’s ever heard him get, and whatever resolve he has left crumbles like wet sand.

“Yeah,” he says, dully. “Okay.”

There is a growing chasm between them that Javi doesn’t even know how to begin to broach, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that Yuzu’s _trying_.

How can he ever bring himself to do any less?

* * *

**YUZURU.**

On the night of the final show, everyone goes out.

Even Yuzu is persuaded to come along, his customary decline changed to acquiescence when Johnny makes Javi do the asking.

“Look, it’s the last dinner,” Javi says, leaning against the lockers as Yuzu changes out of his costume. “Bring Rinko if you have to, but come out with us. It would mean a lot to me.”

Yuzu bites his lip, considering. He’s tired and all he wants to do is rest, but Javi looks so hopeful that he can’t help but smile. “Okay,” he says. “For you, I’ll come out.”

“Excellent,” Javi says, beaming. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we find a quiet place.” He shoves off to tell Johnny about the good news, and Yuzu watches him go, shaking his head.

He’ll never really understand what Javi gets out of these dinners, but it’s not like Yuzu doesn’t get along with the other skaters. He can spend a night out; perhaps he’ll even enjoy himself.

***

Socializing, as it turns out, is actually pretty easy.

Yuzu brings Rinko along and the group gets a private room at an _izakaya,_ sake and sushi coming in periodic waves as the conversation swirls smoothly around them. It’s not what he’d consider his ‘scene’, not really, but Javi’s on one side and Nobu’s sitting right across from him, and it’s… _comfortable_.

Yuzu passes on the alcohol in favor of tea, half-listening as Rinko tells Nobu what she does for a living. Javi is talking to Johnny about some of the musical acts he intends to get for Revolution, and Yuzu surreptitiously finds his hand under the table, squeezing it gently.

He feels Javi give him an answering press back, and when St _é_ phane gets Johnny’s attention, Javi turns to him with a smile.

“Everything okay?” he asks, pitching his voice low enough so that only Yuzu can hear.

“Yes,” he replies. “Happy I came to dinner.”

The smile that Javi gives him makes a warm feeling rise in his chest, and then Rika declares that it’s time for photos and everyone starts scrambling for the best spot.

They share the photos over Line and Yuzuru scrolls through them as they file out of the pub a couple of hours later, grinning as he points out the funny expression on Javi’s face.

“Look like a tomato,” Yuzu giggles.

Javi gives him a look of mock outrage, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he gets a look at the photo. “Stop it,” he says. “I only had a couple of beers. I’m not _that_ red.”

“Hmm,” Yuzu says. “Maybe it’s only trick of light. Or maybe Javi is… what is word? _Lightweight?_ ”

“How dare you,” Javi says, poking him in the side as they make their way down the street. “You didn’t even drink.” It’s late and some of the restaurants are starting to close, neon lights flickering closed up and down the street.

Yuzu ducks his head, stifling a giggle against Javi’s shoulder.

“Yuzu-kun?” Rinko’s voice cuts over whatever reply he’s about to make, and Yuzu looks up, startled, to see that everyone has stopped just up ahead.

There’s a small gaggle of younger fans standing at the junction of the street, having spotted some of their group and actually screwed up the courage to come up and ask for photos. Johnny’s always been gracious and has actually stopped to accommodate them, and a couple of the girls soon recognize Rinko and step up to talk with her.

It’s clear that they’d been hoping to see Yuzu, because their faces light up when Rinko calls out to him, using the diminutive that she never utilizes in private. It’s enough to snap Yuzu out of his bubble, and he quickly steps away from Javi and jogs up to Rinko, a polite smile firmly fixed in place.

“ _These girls are from Sendai_ ,” Rinko explains. “ _But they attend university here. They’re very big fans of yours._ ”

Yuzu stays just long enough for a quick chat and a photo with Rinko and the girls, mindful of the fact that most of the group intends to transfer to the bowling alley a couple of blocks away. Thankfully, the girls don’t overstay their welcome, thanking them profusely even as Rinko makes his excuses for him.

“ _I’ve given them permission to post the photo to their social media accounts,_ ” she says quietly, as soon as they’re out of earshot. “ _Just so you know._ ”

Yuzuru nods; they’ve talked about this before, and Rinko is nothing if not efficient.

They’re at the tail-end of the group by now; half of them have already disappeared from sight up ahead, though Johnny and St _é_ phane have hung back even longer to talk to their own fans.

Yuzu picks up the pace and catches up to Patrick, who only shakes his head at him. “If you’re looking for Javi, he left,” he says. “Said he’s not up for bowling anymore.”

The look Patrick gives him is significant; it doesn’t _quite_ call him a jerk, but Yuzu gets the message all the same.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

It’s a testament to Javi’s ability to lie to himself that he actually thinks they have a shot at this.

When Yuzu agrees to come to the big goodbye dinner, the thought of finally getting the chance to go out with him makes Javi overlook that Rinko has to tag along. In fact, the night goes so well that he nearly forgets that she’s not just another member of the Japanese delegation, calmly chatting with Nobu and Rika as Yuzu finally appears to relax.

Johnny had made sure to book a private room so there’s no danger of getting gawked at, however surreptitiously, and it goes a long way towards Yuzu’s comfort. Javi makes a mental note to thank Johnny, and when he feels Yuzu’s fingers gently entwine with his own underneath the table, he mentally upgrades that ‘thank you’ to a gift basket.

Javi smiles at Yuzu as he returns the gentle pressure of his hand, leaning in a little closer to whisper in his ear. “Everything okay?”

The affirmative response he gets makes him feel warmer than the alcohol does, and when they take a break to pose for group photos, Yuzu even goes so far as to sling an arm around his shoulders. For a moment, it almost feels like the old days-- easy and comfortable-- except Yuzu had never come out with them like this, and the warm, heavy feeling in Javi’s chest is definitely new, too.

When everyone sits back down, Rinko sticks to Rika’s side of the table, apparently in conversation about something related to her research. Javi tunes them out, delighted at the fact that Yuzu seems to actually be enjoying himself, shifting a little closer on the bench as he leans in to listen to one of Johnny’s stories about skating in Beijing.

“--and then I looked up and Zhenya was on the sidelines, filming me with his phone of all things,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes. “He didn’t give me a heads up or anything, just showed up out of the blue. I don’t even know how he got in.”

“I was in area,” Evgeni says blithely, and everyone laughs.

The conversation swirls in ebbs and flows, with Yuzu easily joining in with some of their own stories from Cricket, and they stay until St _é_ phane declares that it’s time to move to the bowling alley.

“Bowling?” Yuzu whispers, turning to Javi with an arched brow.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Javi says, laughing. “We went for St _é_ phane’s birthday once and it’s kind of a tradition, now.”

“I will be bad at it,” Yuzu says, wrinkling his nose.

“We all are,” Javi assures him. “It’s just for fun, I promise.” They file out of the pub with everyone else, and Rika announces that she’s shared all their photos on their group chat.

“Okay, maybe tonight is for trying new things,” Yuzu says. “Let’s bowl.”

Javi beams.

His good mood lasts all the way until they get to the corner, standing in the last of the shadows before the streetlamp illuminates the crossing. Yuzu is pressed against his side and Javi almost believes that they’re just another couple walking around, the two beers he’d had just enough to give him a pleasant buzz.

“ _Yuzu-kun?”_

And then Rinko’s voice cuts across the white noise of the traffic up ahead, and Javi goes from having an armful of Yuzu to holding nothing at all.

It takes him a handful of excruciating seconds to fully register what’s happening, watching dumbly as Yuzu jogs up to Rinko-- yes, his _girlfriend_ \-- and holds court with a couple of starry-eyed fans. The whole exchange can’t be more than five minutes, but Javi’s seen enough after two.

 _He can’t stay_.

He knows that now, knows that the churning feeling in his gut has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with himself. It’s one thing to know that _this_ is what it’s going to be like until Yuzu retires, and it’s another thing to have it play out in front of him. It’s like some cruel joke, a parody of what love is supposed to be, and Javi has no one to blame but himself for letting it get this far.

_He feels sick._

Javi manages to hold it together long enough to find Patrick up ahead, sticking to the shadows as he catches up to the man.

“Hey, I’m not feeling so well,” he says. “Can you tell Johnny I had to go? I’ll text him to apologize tomorrow.”

“Javi, are you--?” He doesn’t stay to hear the rest of Patrick’s question, he’s already sped up and crossed to the other side of the street.

The wind kicks up and the cold air helps ease the burn of his cheeks as he walks away, and he’s almost proud of himself for making it all the way to his hotel room before finally throwing up.

It doesn’t make him feel better.

_***_

“ _We need to talk.”_

They’re the first words out of Javi’s mouth when Yuzu shows up at his door thirty minutes after he’d bailed on everyone, and first relationship or not, even Yuzuru Hanyu knows what _that_ means.

He bites his lip, looks at the expression on Javi’s face, and nods. “My room,” he says. “Patrick might come back.”

Javi agrees without argument, not even bothering to ask where Rinko is. He knows that she won’t be at the suite, and he’s proven right when they enter the empty room.

“I’m sorry,” Yuzu says, as soon as the door is firmly closed. “I didn’t expect to see fans--”

“Please don’t apologize,” Javi says, holding up a hand. “You’re not sorry, not really, and I’d rather have a real conversation about this than just have you apologize to me again.”

He waits until Yuzu gives him a tense nod, then forges ahead. “You know I didn’t want Rinko here, and I’ve been going through this month feeling like a total asshole because I’m so upset that you brought her anyway,” he says. “Wanting privacy is one thing, and if that’s all you wanted for us, I’d go along with it. But this whole thing with Rinko-- it’s not you protecting your private life. It’s you _lying._ About us. About _me_. Like--” His voice cracks. “You’re ashamed of me.”

“I’m not,” Yuzuru bursts out. “Javi, I’m not ashamed of you.” He takes his hands, trying to get Javi to look him in the eye.

“Don’t you see?” he says desperately. “I’m doing all of this for _you._ ”

“I know that you believe that,” Javi replies. “But I need you to hear me when I tell you that you’re really _not_. This entire story with Rinko benefits only the JSF and yourself.”

Yuzu pales. “So because I cannot throw away my career for you, we are over?” he asks. “I have commitments, Javi. I have _reputation_.”

“I know you do,” Javi replies, wearily scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “How can I ever forget about your reputation?”

“What does that mean? You know I do this so JSF give me permission to be with you. Do you think lying all the time easy for me? You think I am so happy, bringing a stranger with me on tour?” Yuzu asks, incredulous. “If we did not have a relationship, I wouldn’t have to lie all the time!”

“Can you even hear yourself?” Javi bursts out. “This isn’t a relationship, Yuzu, it’s barely even a hookup. _Dios mio_ , do you have any idea what you ask of me? Hide my face, don’t go outside, _don’t be seen with you_. The only way this arrangement could be more insulting was if you _paid_ me.”

Yuzuru flinches back as if struck at his last rejoinder, tears welling in his eyes. Javi hates the fact that he’s the cause of Yuzu’s pain, that it’s _his_ words that put that hopeless look on his face. He loves Yuzu, _he does_ , and the temptation to take him into his arms and beg for his forgiveness is strong. But he’s been in enough relationships to know that it’s simply going to delay the inevitable.

It’s only been a handful of months and they’re already in so deep. Anything more and they might come away from this actually, _genuinely_ hating each other.

 _If Yuzu can’t see that_ … Javi will have to be strong enough for the both of them.

He sucks in one breath and then another, until it stops feeling like a miracle that he isn’t crying. Then he goes to Yuzuru and cups his face in his hands, gently brushing away the tears that are coursing down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “This isn’t what I wanted for us. I thought I could handle it but I can’t… I can’t be with you like this.”

“Please don’t do this, Javi,” Yuzu whispers, voice breaking. “ _I love you_.”

“I love you too,” Javi says, and his eyes are wet, stinging with salt. “But I don’t think it’s enough for either of us anymore.”

He bends down, presses a kiss against Yuzu’s cheek. “For what it’s worth, I hope you find what you’re looking for someday.”

He turns on his heel and heads to the door, Yuzu’s soft sobs following him out.

Javi doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This was, for obvious reasons, the hardest chapter to write by far. I initially didn’t write Javi’s perspective on the incident with Rinko and the fans, but as I was proof-reading it, I realized that I couldn’t leave his feelings up to implication. I wrote the encounter from Yuzu’s perspective because I wanted to stress how innocent his intentions were, and the mirror image of it came out of a need to show how intent and outcome can be very wildly different. In this case, with disastrous results. 
> 
> -Shout out goes to a comment from sapokanikan, who mentioned how the different perspectives were like viewing a floorplan of the relationship, laying out where they were on the same page and where they were completely out of sync. I was completely inspired by your comment as I finished this last segment. Thank you! <3
> 
> -The observant will note that Patrick Chan wasn’t in Fantasy on Ice 2018, but I hope I’ll be forgiven for the indulgence.
> 
> -The story about Johnny and Evgeni is mostly true; there’s a fancam of Evgeni filming a very surprised and giggly Johnny at the end of one of his shows in Beijing, and afterwards they shoot a cute ‘good night’ video together. As far as my research goes, Plush had zero official reason to be there, so make of that what you will! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8LDEzkTlSo


	9. Chapter 9

**YUZURU.**

_Life goes on._

Yuzu spends a week in Sendai before he has to fly back to Toronto to prepare for his season, and though his family undoubtedly notices that he’s quieter than usual, they mostly leave him to his own devices. His mother knows that he will go to her if he needs anything, and his father is content to let him handle his career.

It’s only Saya who comes to him one night, dropping by his room as he sorts out the things he wants to pack for Toronto.

“Are you okay?” she asks without preamble. “Have you and Javi been fighting or something? I’ve noticed that you aren’t on your phone as much.”

Yuzu doesn’t look up from his neatly-folded stack of shirts. “Not really,” he says. “And I suppose you could say that; we broke up right before the tour ended.”

Saya’s brows rise. “That’s unexpected,” she says. “You two have known each other a long time. I thought you’d be...”

There’s a beat as she watches Yuzu mechanically placing the stack of clothing into his bag.

“You thought we’d be together longer?” he asks, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “So did I.”

Saya shakes her head slowly. “I thought you’d be more upset,” she corrects. “You seemed like you really wanted to make it work, when he was here.”

Instead of answering, Yuzu carefully puts down the pair of joggers that he’s folding. “I really did.”

Saya studies him for a moment, then carefully sits on the edge of his bed, reaching out to grip his shoulder. The weight of her small palm is somewhat reassuring, and Yuzu sighs, reaching up to cover her hand with his.

“Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet,” he admits. “I keep thinking about calling him, but I don’t know what to say.”

His gaze falls on his open suitcase, perfectly compartmentalized with every item in its proper place, with his skates taking up the most room in their protective case. It’s about as perfect a metaphor for his life as it can get, and he doesn’t miss the irony. Javi had never been the type of person who could fit in a box, despite how hard he’d tried.

“It will be easier when I start training again,” Yuzu continues. “I should focus on my season, anyway.”

Saya gives him an unreadable look, tilting her head. Yuzu doesn’t know what she’s hoping to see, but then she shrugs, and he wonders if she’s yet another person whose expectations he has fallen short of.

“I know it’s not what you wanted,” she says carefully. “But I saw how difficult it was for you to keep up appearances. Maybe not having to lie about Rinko constantly will at least help ease your other burdens.”

Yuzu swallows hard. He’s actually given the Rinko situation considerable thought, and he knows that his sister won’t like his conclusion.

He stalls for time, getting up to place another carefully folded bundle of clothing into his suitcase. “I’ve actually decided to continue my arrangement with Rinko,” he says. “At least for the time being.”

“What?” Saya asks, incredulous. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because ever since Rinko has been around, the tabloids have had less to say,” Yuzuru says. “One of them tried to run a sensational piece on her last month, and the worst thing they had was that she gave away her dog to her cousin when she was fifteen.”

He doesn’t want to admit to his sister how much the media still affects him; the one time he’d tried, she had simply advised him to stop looking it up.

Such an easy thing to say, but hardly so in practice.

“And...” Yuzu pauses, shrinking a little under Saya’s gaze. “Because he might change his mind. Because he might come back.”

“ _Oh, Yuzu_ ,” Saya says. The pity in her eyes says it all, but Yuzu can’t help the small flicker of hope still burning in his chest.

Javi has always been a compassionate person-- quick to offer a helping hand, quick to forgive. Is it any wonder that Yuzu’s holding out hope for a reconciliation?

“Don’t you think you deserve a normal life?”

Yuzu looks away. “I don’t even know what that would look like,” he says. “Okaasan says I should be with someone who will understand what it takes to be with me. Someone Japanese.”

The expression on Saya’s face tells him exactly what she thinks of _that_ sentiment, and Yuzu tries not to blanch.

“None of this will matter in Toronto anyway,” he assures her. “I’ll be training, Rinko won’t be inconvenienced, and no news will be good news.”

***

It turns out that he’s right about the fact that being in Toronto allows him to focus, which is a relief in every sense of the word.

Yuzu has always been good at toughing out emotions and concentrating on the necessary, and though his phone is woefully absent of any messages from Javi, his skating comes along right on schedule.

The ice is his one constant, after all, and Brian is pleased with his progress.

“You can hit the showers,” he says, after Yuzu has performed a particularly grueling run-through of his step sequence. “You did good today.”

Yuzu thanks him with a smile and a nod, but his heart isn’t really in it. As he pushes away from the mirrors, he catches himself staring wistfully at the bright red and yellow flag hanging proudly above the rink.

His chest aches.

“What’s wrong?” Brian’s voice is so full of familiar concern that Yuzu momentarily forgets himself.

“I miss Javi,” he says softly. Then his eyes widen, shocked at his own admission. He turns to his coach, ready to play it off, but Brian is looking at him with nothing but fond indulgence.

“I’m sure he misses you too,” he says, patting Yuzu on the shoulder. “Why don’t you give him a call? He’ll probably be happy to hear from you.”

As they skate towards the boards, Yuzu finds himself relaxing minutely. Of course Brian would think it innocent; they’d never been anything but friends before Pyeongchang, and to him it’s just Yuzu and Javi behaving like usual.

Never mind that the past six months had turned his entire life upside down, chewing Yuzu up and spitting him out, broken and bleeding, straight into competition season.

In Brian’s eyes, he’s still just an innocent kid, and Yuzu is loathe to dissuade him of that notion.

He forces a smile. “I will.”

It’s the first lie that Yuzu’s ever told him.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

_Life goes on._

As soon as he gets home, Javier deliberately tunes out the world, throwing himself into planning _Revolution on Ice,_ preparing himself physically for the Japan Open in October, and ignoring everything else.

Days turns into weeks, and weeks into months, and at some point Laura breaks up with Enrique and moves into his spare room, promising to clear out as soon as she gets herself together and finds a new place.

Javi tells her to stay as long as she likes.

With Laura’s proximity, it becomes even easier for them to iron out the last remaining loose ends for his show, and soon all that remains is to begin rehearsals. First, though, he has to get back into some sort of competitive shape, planning to use the Japan Open as his warm-up for his final competition early next year.

The European Championships are particularly dear to him, and though he wants the seven-year streak, he’s already told himself to temper his expectations and to consider it his definitive goodbye as much as anything else.

It’s late September when he finally feels ready again, practicing at his local rink and working out the last of his jumps. He’s not in Olympic shape, not by a long shot, but it should be enough to give Europe a fighting chance, or at the very least, not embarrass his team too badly.

He breaks his streak of _not_ thinking about Yuzuru as soon as he gets on the plane to Japan, however, and he hastily puts down the in-flight magazine when he realizes it’s got his ex-boyfriend splashed on the cover.

Javi closes his eyes and tries not to think of anything at all, but when his hand twitches towards the magazine, he realizes that reading it is inevitable. The only question that remains is whether he’ll do so now or five hours from now after torturing himself in an effort _not_ to, and in the end he decides to put himself out of his own misery.

He rests his head against the window shade and flips to the page with Yuzu’s interview, biting his lip as he skims over the usual facts. There’s a skating story from his boyhood that Javi recalls Yuzuru telling him about during one of their late night/early morning video calls, followed by a description of his training regimen and diet.

Then Javi gets to the requisite part about Brian and Tracy and the rest of Cricket, and his eyes momentarily water when he reads the kind words that Yuzu has to say about their ‘rivalry’. It feels like he’s trying to reach out to Javi through the page, and his heart _aches_ at how much he misses him.

But then he gets to a final, tiny blurb at the end about Yuzu’s personal life and his ‘long-time girlfriend Rinko’, and Javi slaps the magazine shut and shoves it back into the holder.

 _Fuck_.

It’s been nearly three months since the tour, almost half the length of their entire short-lived relationship, but it still _guts_ him like it had all gone down yesterday.

Javi lifts a hand and asks the attendant for a glass of water; a sleeping pill and some rest, and hopefully he’ll wake up and be ready to face the world.

***

He doesn’t realize how much weight he’s lost until he puts on his costume, frowning when he goes to button his trousers and finds them hanging off of his hipbones two inches too loose. His shirt, supposed to be on the bigger side and flowing, now droops over his shoulders and nearly swallows his frame.

Alina, Maria, and Deniss are good company, but Javi finds himself lost as soon as he steps into the rink for introductions, his smile plastered on and his good humor contrived.

The Japan Open has never been Yuzuru’s event, it’s always been Shoma’s, but everywhere Javi turns, he sees ghosts of him on the ice. It doesn’t matter that none of it makes sense; Yuzu is in Toronto with Brian, training hard for his season, and if Javi should be hallucinating his presence, it certainly wouldn’t be in a competition he’d never participated in.

But he does anyway, seeing Seimei in the lines of Deniss’ Japanese-style costume and Yuzu himself in the flow of Alina’s Ina Bauer. It drives him to distraction, the ache in his chest growing and growing until he finds himself gasping for breath, trying to pull himself together in the locker room during the break.

When his turn finally comes, Javi manages a pathetic third, well behind Shoma and Nobu in points, with a score so low that he can’t remember the last time he’s seen it. Not even his Cup of China disaster free skate had garnered him a score in the one hundred fifties, and he tries to keep a brave face at the kiss and cry, surrounded by a supportive team, but inside he’s shaking.

This is not a score he can bring to the European Championships and win, and more than that, he’s shocked at how quickly his competition mindset has deteriorated. He’d been distracted, caught up in his own emotions and not focused enough on the task at hand, and as a result his performance had suffered.

It’s not his habit to rewatch a skate after the fact-- that’s always been Yuzu’s method-- but this time Javi has to see what the judges had.

That night, alone in his hotel room, he finds a fan cam online and methodically goes through it, biting his lip when the high-def camera zooms in and he sees the expression on his face.

He’s always connected with this music, allowing both the melancholy and the joy of the piece to move him in turn, using its emotional arc to its fullest extent. But even Javi can’t deny how wrecked he looks, captured in all of its gory detail in HD.

He looks gaunt, tired, and as he moves through the ice he looks like his heart is breaking with every step, as if he’s merely a ghost chasing after his former glory.

_Maybe he is._

Javi shuts his laptop with a quiet click.

His phone dings with a message from Deniss, asking if he wants to grab dinner with the girls, but Javi declines. Between his poor performance and the constant reminders of Yuzuru everywhere, he doesn’t think he can bear to put up any more appearances tonight.

All he wants to do is sleep, and tomorrow he’ll get on a plane and leave Saitama and, hopefully, all thoughts of Yuzuru behind.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Despite winning gold at the Autumn Classic, Yuzu isn’t satisfied with his performance. He’d wanted to pay homage to Johnny and Evgeni, trying to find a little pleasure in skating for himself after his second Olympic win, but his timing is off and he falls on the quad sal.

 _Javi’s_ quad sal. The jump he’d come all the way to Toronto learn, and as Yuzu returns to training, he’s forced to admit that maybe he isn’t quite as focused as he’d thought he was.

“I understand that you’re disappointed,” Brian says. “But it’s early in the season. It takes a little time for your competition jumps to come back, but I’m certain that you’ll be in fighting form by Helsinki.”

Yuzuru nods, his eyes straying towards his phone. It’s been silent for days, weeks, months. He needs to stop thinking about it, _about Javi_ , and focus on his skate.

His anger at himself bolsters him, allows him to concentrate, and he throws himself into training and learning the new rules, every bit as intense as he’d been going into the Olympics.

Brian comments on this one day, cautioning him to save some of it for World’s next year, but Yuzu doesn’t let up. Not pushing himself means he’ll have time to think, staring at his silent phone and wondering if he should make the first move.

But Javi had made it clear that his problem is with Yuzu’s _situation_ , something that he can’t see a way out of whilst competing, and all the phone calls in the world won’t change that.

Javi knows how much Yuzu loves him; that had never been their problem.

And so Yuzu narrows his world to just the ice, and another month passes and it’s November, Helsinki looming over him like a mountain casting its shadow.

He empties his mind of everything and skates with all that he has, taking first place with a forty-point margin and breaking all sorts of new records; Brian is ecstatic, his family proud.

He expects the pressure in his chest to ease then, even for a just a little bit, but it doesn’t.

Yuzu gives interview after interview-- reciting lines about excellent competition, hard work coming to fruition, paying tribute to his childhood greats-- all of it said with an affable smile. Every now and then, a Japanese reporter will bring up Rinko; one asks him if her support bolsters him, and Yuzu manages to say ‘of course’ with a tight smile.

It’s not overstepping when he’s announced the relationship himself, and his management provides a brief personal dossier every time he accepts an interview. He knows that they encourage reporters to ask about Rinko, trying to keep her in the public conscious just enough to remind them that she exists, but not so much that anyone tries to look into her.

It’s a double-edged sword at this point, but Yuzuru can’t deny its effectiveness. Whatever the cost to him during the moment of the _lie_ , the rewards are worth it; there has been no mention of his… _proclivities…_ in months.

No news is good news, the JSF is silent, and Yuzuru is… _surviving_.

When he gets home to Toronto, he thumbs at the ridge of his shiny new medal. It’s a heavy, clear acrylic and pretty enough in design, all clean lines and carefully engraved text.

He holds it in his hand for a moment, feeling the weight of it, and then carefully puts it back in its little box and tucks it into the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Training for Rostelecom starts Monday.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

“Javi, I think we need to talk about the sleeping pills.”

They’re at the kitchen poring over some costume designs one day, and then Laura leans in, apropos of nothing. “You used to only take them to fix your jet lag, but I can’t help but notice you’re using a lot more nowadays.”

She clasps her hands in front of her, expression intent. “You’ve lost weight, as well,” she continues. “I know you cut down on purpose when you’re about to compete, but…”

Javi sighs; he should’ve expected this. “I know,” he says. “I’m having trouble sleeping, so I started using the pills to regulate my schedule. I didn’t mean to use them so often; I think they’re affecting my appetite.”

Laura nods. “I think it’s best if you stop for now,” she says. “Rehearsals are starting next week, and maybe you’ll be tired enough that you won’t even need them.”

Javi smiles thinly. _Wonderful_. He’s depressed and his sister thinks he’s addicted to sleeping pills. He’s reminded of the anxiety he’d suffered from during his time with Morozov, the constant state of distress that had only been solved by moving to Brian. He knows what he’s feeling, had experienced it keenly after his breakup with Miki, but the only way he knows how to _cope_ is to keep on going.

“I’ll stop if it will make you feel better,” he says finally. “And I’ll keep better track of my meals. Okay?”

Laura bites her lip. “I really think you need to talk to someone about what happened with Yuzuru,” she says. “If not me, then maybe a professional…?”

“It was a bad break-up,” Javi says. “But you know what it was like, after Miki. I can deal with it, I just need to keep busy, that’s all.”

“But maybe if you just--”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Javi says sharply, and Laura shuts her mouth with an audible click. There’s a pregnant pause before Javi pushes away from the kitchen aisle, shaking his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I’m fine.”

***

Javi is not fine.

He’s not fine when rehearsals start a week later, when he puts up a brave front for the staff and the skaters who are performing in the chorus, and he’s not fine when he tries to practice and nearly breaks his neck trying to do a simple step sequence.

He’s stopped taking the sleeping pills to make Laura happy, and as a result he spends his nights tossing and turning, trying to get the look on Yuzuru’s face out of his mind.

He nearly breaks down and calls him more than once, late at night when he’s so tired that he almost forgets about Rinko. But as his fingers hover over the ‘call’ button, he recalls how utterly worthless he’d felt that night on the street in Shizuoka, and he puts down his phone.

By the time Friday rolls around, the revolutionettes rehearsals are going smoothly enough but Javi has made almost no progress during his own training. He’s going by Cricket methodology, slow and steady, but even by their standards he should be nearing the point when he’s ready to start serious jump training again, and Javi knows in his bones that he isn’t.

If he tries a quad now, he probably will _actually_ break something, and so he leaves early, gets himself to a bar, and tries to see if a good old-fashioned drink or two will earn him some sleep.

It’s been a while since he’s been out and he sticks to what he knows; a pub not far from his apartment, where the bartender has seen him enough times that his face is relatively familiar. He even orders tapas, trying to ease himself into the alcohol; the last thing he wants is a lecture from Laura about how heartbreak has turned him into an alcoholic.

He scrolls through emails on his phone as he eats, taking periodic sips from his glass of vermouth. It’s a depressing thought, the fact that he’s actually getting work done in a bar on a Friday night, but by the time he’s on his second glass, he’s feeling like he might actually be able to sleep tonight.

And then he makes the mistake of scrolling through his photos in search of a reference image for the show, and his face falls. He’d forgotten the pictures that he and Yuzuru had taken, having done it so seldomly during their relationship that he hadn’t thought to remove them from his phone.

There are a few during the Fantasy tour and a couple more at Yuzu’s house in Sendai, but the ones that make Javi’s chest ache are all from his first trip out.

They tell the story of what could have been, back when real life hadn’t yet exploded and they were just Yuzu and Javi, living in a bubble of time. There’s a picture of Yuzu laying on his chest, scrunching his face at the camera, and another where they’re on the couch, Javi’s arm thrown over Yuzu’s shoulders and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

He scrolls through picture after picture, a lump in his throat, until he finally reaches the very last one where Yuzu is blowing a kiss at the camera, right before Javi’s about to leave for the airport.

_Loving each other had never been their problem._

He puts his phone on the bar face-down, takes a long drink from his glass, and prepares himself for yet another sleepless night.

“ _You look like you could use another one of those.”_

The words are spoken lightly, near his ear, and Javi frowns, turning. “Excuse me?”

The voice, as it turns out, belongs to a tall, tanned Italian with an easy smile and mischievous eyes. “A drink,” he says, nodding at Javi’s empty glass. “Can I buy you one?”

Javi stares at him blankly for a moment; he’s gotten hit on in the past of course, even before he and Yuzuru were ever a thing, but he’s always shrugged it off good-naturedly.

There’s nothing in him that feels particularly charitable now, though, and he simply shakes his head. “No, thanks,” he says shortly. “I can get my own.”

He expects that to be the end of it, but the man blithely slides into the bar stool next to him, waving at the bartender. “That’s a relief,” he says. “I was worried you were going to say yes.”

Javi gives him a withering look. “So why ask in the first place?”

The man flashes him a wide grin, accepting the beer that the bartender places in front of him. “Maybe I like lost causes.”

The corners of Javi’s mouth twitch, and he shakes his head. “You have the worst pickup lines I’ve ever heard,” he says. “And that’s coming from someone who’s pretty terrible at them.”

“Well. You’re not wrong,” the man says, grinning. “But in my defense, I’m taking a night off and I’m allowed to be stupid.”

“ _Francesco, where are our drinks--?_ ” A leggy blonde comes up behind them, slapping a manicured hand onto the bar. It’s clear that she’s had a few already, and Javi watches with amusement as they switch to a rapid exchange in Italian, with the man clearly trying to extricate himself from her grip but too afraid to actually do so.

In the end, she throws up her hands, turning to Javi. “You, come sit with us,” she says. “We are celebrating tonight, and Francesco must be at our table.”

“I’m not stopping him,” Javi says. He doesn’t add that he’d actually prefer it if they both left, but she doesn’t listen, steamrolling over him and ordering several drinks from the bartender.

In the end, Javi is roped into sitting with them by virtue of helping them carry all twelve of their drinks back to their table, as occupied by a group of Italian artists in some study program.

They are loud, jovial, and companionable, and for a handful of hours, Javi actually feels a little bit like himself again. He’s always enjoyed socializing, and perhaps it’s his enforced solitude these past few months that have contributed so greatly to his imbalance, because he finds his mood lifting as the night wears on.

Francesco, as it turns out, is a photographer, a terrible flirt, and an unashamed romantic. He couldn’t be more different from Yuzuru, and in the end, maybe that’s why Javi actually gives him the time of day.

“The program only lasts two months,” Francesco says. “So we’ve decided to celebrate every weekend until it’s over.”

That makes no sense whatsoever, but Javi rolls with it. “You know Madrid has a lot more to offer than bars, right?” he says. “Especially on weekends.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Francesco replies, grinning. “I would absolutely love for you to take me sight-seeing tomorrow.”

At the expression on Javi’s face, he lets out a delighted laugh. “I told you I was terrible at this,” he says. “But at least give me one more chance. I promise I’m much smoother when I’m sober.”

“That’s not true,” the blonde, Sofia, now pipes up. “He’s always this bad. Run away while you can, Javier.”

The group laughs and Francesco bears it with good humor, but he holds out his phone to Javi with a hopeful grin.

“One date,” he says. “And I’ll leave you alone forever if it’s awful, I promise.”

Javi shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself, and he takes Francesco’s phone and puts in his number. “One date,” he says. “And no promises about the quality of my company. I’m probably going to be a little hungover tomorrow.”

Francesco takes back the phone with good grace, raising a brow at the name Javi has put in. “Just ‘Javier’. Like Madonna?” Javi rolls his eyes. “No, that’s cool. I hope you know that this is the first time anyone has made me work for a last name, but I’m up for it.”

He types in his full name on Javi’s phone, ‘Francesco Ricci’, and in the notes writes ‘handsome photographer at bar’. “Just so you don’t forget,” he says.

When the group finally breaks up at closing time, Javi goes to pay for his tab and finds out that Francesco has taken care of it. He doesn’t know what to think about that, but he does know that he feels better than he has for the first time in months.

Javi’s grateful for the momentary distraction, if nothing else.

It’s late enough that Laura’s already closed her door by the time he gets home, and Javi quietly washes up and goes to his bedroom.

Truth be told, he doesn’t really expect to ever see Francesco again. He’d given him his number at the spur of the moment, not really expecting Francesco to follow up, so no one is more surprised than Javi when he finds himself at dinner with him the following night.

They’re in a proper restaurant and he doesn’t even feel that hungover, and they’re halfway through their meal when Javi realizes that he’s actually enjoying himself. Francesco is handsome in a careless sort of way, and he has an interesting sense of humor.

As the night wears on, he tells Javi about Italy, his work, and a bit more about his study program.

“It’s an art exchange type of thing,” he explains. “I mostly do gallery shows, with collages made from photographs that I took. Sometimes I do commercial shoots with models, but I’m not really interested in that.”

“You should do what makes you happy, then,” Javi says. “Life’s too short to spend it on things that you aren’t passionate about.”

Francesco smiles at that, tilts his head. “And what do you do, Javier?” he asks. “Besides drink in bars and let strange men pick you up?”

Javi snorts. “I haven’t let you pick me up; this is _just_ dinner,” he says. “But I’m a performer. Figure skater. I used to do it competitively, but I’m retired now.”

“Oh?” Francesco says. “You seem very young to be retired at anything.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you,” Javi says, raising a brow. “But twenty-seven is about the right age to retire from competitions. It’s hard on the knees.”

Francesco’s mouth quirks up, and Javi rolls his eyes. “Please, no jokes about other things that are hard on the knees,” he says. “I’ve heard them all.”

“That’s two things you’re wrong about, then,” Francesco says. “I’m older than you-- _twenty-nine, thank you_ \-- and I would _never_ joke about having you on your knees for me.”

He looks at Javi with enough intensity that Javi actually finds himself flushing, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a long drink.

Francesco is still looking at him, considering, as he puts it down.

Javi shakes his head. “I thought,” he says, trying to leaven the moment. “That you said you’d be smoother when you were sober.”

In response, Francesco merely smiles, reaching out across the table. Javi watches as he brushes his thumb over his knuckles, then gently draws his hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of it.

The whole restaurant can see; no one cares.

“You’re very handsome,” Francesco says, without a trace of irony or embarrassment. “And I’d very much like to take you to bed.”

Javi bites his lip. He feels like he’s on the precipice of a cliff, and his fingers tighten against Francesco’s, briefly, before breaking free from his grip.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Javi asks, and Francesco grins.

“ _Let’s.”_

***

Javi surprises himself by letting Francesco fuck him that night, but he finds that it’s nice to be out of his own head, even for a little bit. He gets Javi on his hands on his knees and does things with his mouth that would make even a prostitute blush, before fucking him so thoroughly that Javi’s vision actually whites out a little at the edges when he comes.

It’s… _nice_. More than nice, really, to feel something other than hollow all the time, as if he’s just walking around with a Yuzuru-shaped hole carved into his chest.

Francesco’s staying in a small Airbnb that smells like cigarettes and alcohol, and Javi props himself up on an elbow, taking in the camera equipment in the corner, the piles of art stacked haphazardly on the table.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks. _I don’t have to overthink this._

“So, have I earned your last name yet?” Francesco asks at some point, and Javi rolls his eyes and tells him.

“Pleased to meet you,” he adds sardonically, and Francesco laughs, low and deep and warm, and tells him to stay the night if he wants to.

Javi does, and eventually he falls asleep and doesn’t dream about anything at all.

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Yuzu finds out that Javi is dating again completely by accident.

He’s in Moscow right after performing another record-breaking short program and it’s one of the rare occasions when all he has to do at the moment is rest; on impulse, he decides to check his social media accounts.

_What could it hurt?_

Javi doesn’t post anything too private on his Instagram nowadays, mostly just pictures of his new apartment and his cats and his upcoming show, occasionally his friends. But Yuzu’s following Laura as well, and as he scrolls through his feed, he sees a group photo at a party with Javi somewhere in the back, arm slung casually around some guy’s waist. He’s tall and handsome, and he’s looking at Javi like he hung the moon, and Yuzu just _knows_.

It takes him a while to figure out who the guy is-- Laura hadn’t tagged him-- but via scrolling through every comment on Laura’s various posts, he eventually finds his account, _locked of course_ , and requests to follow him. Yuzu’s own secret account is fairly harmless, just contains photos of nature that he finds interesting enough to shoot, and there’s nothing at all that can trace it back to his real identity.

It takes about half an hour before _FrancescoRFoto10_ accepts the request, and once he does, Yuzu almost wishes he hadn’t.

His account is full of pictures of Javi.

Francesco is something of a photographer, it seems, and the camera has always loved Javi. He has dozens of photos of him, many of them candid, a handful posed. There’s one where he’s caught Javi staring out the window of a cafe, lost in thought, and he looks so, so sad that Yuzu _hurts_ just looking at him.

But there are other photos, too, many of them happy, where Javi is smiling with his whole face, and those hurt Yuzu even more. He scrolls to a photo where Javi’s head is on Francesco’s shoulder, looking completely relaxed as they both grin at the camera. They’re in some restaurant and there are people in the background, and Yuzu thinks: _this is what I could never give him_.

The thought that someone else could make Javi look like this, where he had brought him so much pain, makes bile rise in his _throat_.

_He’s not coming back._

Yuzu realizes this like a punch in the gut, like ice water flooding his veins. Javi isn’t coming back, Yuzu still hasn’t ‘broken up’ with Rinko, and the entire world thinks he’s something that he’s not.

He turns his head to look at his costume for Origin, neatly hung in his closet to air out in preparation for his performance. Even in the dim light, the myriad of tiny stones and beads in the fabric glitter and shine, as if beckoning to him in invitation.

 _Skating is my life_ , he thinks. He touches the cloth, running his fingertips over the intricate beadwork, reminding himself of the thousands of hours of craft and skill that had gone into making this piece of art.

_Skating is my life._

“It’s worth it,” he says out loud. “I was born to skate.”

_But is that all he’s allowed to do?_

***

During practice the following day, he falls on the quad loop.

He feels it as soon as he lands-- _sprawling_ , palms flat on the ice and head bowed-- the terrible, excruciating pain in his ankle that lances through him. It takes his breath away, transports him back to before the Olympics, when the pain and despair of his injury had nearly threatened to overwhelm him.

For a brief eternity he stays on the ground, trying to suck in a pained breath whilst doing his best to keep from giving anything away. Everyone is watching-- his competition, their coaches, the _world--_ eager to see a chink in his armor, desperate for a chance to take the Cup away from him.

 _Not today_. Not in Moscow, not with Origin. He closes his eyes and summons every ounce of strength he has left to school his features into an expressionless mask, to not let on that his body has failed him yet again.

His music plays on but when Yuzu gets up, he doesn’t move with it, instead skating towards Brian on pretense of putting his gloves away.

But he _hurts_.

_God, does he hurt._

He can see on Brian’s face that he knows something is wrong, asking if he’s okay as soon as he gets within earshot. Yuzu doesn’t reply, knows that his coach will forgive the impoliteness once he understands how bad his injury is, and he concentrates on keeping up appearances as he skates slowly around the rink.

He pretends to be image training but he’s actually trying to assess the damage, feeling himself out. It takes everything that he has to not let on the extent of the pain, and he skates on his good leg, bending at the knee so that his injured ankle bears no weight.

He tries to make it to the end of his music but every time he tries to skate with two feet, the pain is excruciating, and eventually he glides to a stop in the center of the stage, takes his bows, and makes his way towards Brian.

He can see that his premature exodus has not fooled the majority of his fans; he tries not to look but he can see the confused, worried faces that peer at him from the bleachers.

His stomach clenches as Brian herds him gently away from prying eyes, and when they’re finally in the safety of the hallway, he collapses into the closest chair and tells his coach the truth.

***

Brian advises him to withdraw, making the case that even if he wins, he likely won’t be in any shape to compete at the Final.

Yuzuru sees the wisdom in this, he really does, but it had been important to him to perform his tribute to Evgeni in his country, and he tells Brian so. The fact that he has also lost _Javi_ for this is also irrationally at the forefront of his mind, but _that_ reason he keeps to himself.

In truth, the photos of Javi and Francesco bother him far more than he had hoped they would, and as is customary for him, Yuzu tries to take the crushing emotion and turn it into something _useful_.

If he can’t skate, then that means he’d protected his career and lost Javi for nothing.

If he can’t skate, he’s got nothing.

If he can’t skate, he _is_ nothing.

“I have painkillers from last time,” he tells Brian. “I have to skate Origin in Russia.”

He sets his jaw stubbornly, and he can see the exact moment that his coach deflates, knowing that Yuzuru has made up his mind.

Brian nods reluctantly.

The day after, Yuzuru accepts his first place medal on crutches.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

The show in Pamplona goes very well, and a week later they perform in Malaga.

Francesco had been slated to return to Italy earlier on in the week, but he stays in Madrid a few extra days so he can catch the second stop of the tour, taking the train out for the show.

He meets Javi at the wrap party afterwards, all wide grins and genuine enthusiasm; it’s the first time he’s seen Javi _really_ skate and he’s impressed in the way that only non-figure skaters can be.

Javi blushes under the praise, trying to wave it away but Francesco won’t have it.

“You were amazing!” he says, wrapping his arms around him. “Pure art, Javier. I’m so glad I stayed for it.” He cups his face with two hands and draws him in for a kiss, and Javi makes a small noise of surprise before returning it.

Someone from the cast calls out an ‘ _ooh la la_ ’ and they disengage, Javi shaking his head in amusement.

“Sorry,” Francesco says, a little breathless. “I didn’t think--”

“No, it’s okay,” Javi replies, and as he says it, he realizes that it’s _true_. “I don’t mind. I’m so glad you could stay for the show.”

Francesco breaks out into a relieved grin and hugs him again, lingering this time, and Javi returns the embrace every bit as tightly.

As the night wears on, Raya catches his eye and gives him a wink, and Javi shakes his head, grinning. “Don’t say it,” he says.

“What?” Raya says, the picture of innocence. “I was just going to congratulate you on a wonderful show. I’m so excited for the rest of the tour.”

“Oh, is that what you’re congratulating me for?” Javi asks, laughing. “Thank you, then. I’m glad you enjoy performing with us.”

Raya chuckles, playing along for a moment, before reaching out to grip his shoulder. “Seriously, though, I’m happy for you,” he says. “The whole thing with Yuzuru-- Japanese media is vicious, and it’s good that you’re finally out of that whole mess.”

Javi’s smile freezes on his face, and he stares dumbly even as Raya continues. “I dated a Japanese skater once too, you know. A long time ago,” he says. “They’re crazy about their rep over there, and the guy I was seeing wasn’t anywhere near as big as Yuzuru.”

“I see,” Javi says, eyes wide. “Did… did _everyone_ know? About us, I mean?”

Raya tilts his head. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I guess some of us suspected,” he says. “No one would ever say anything or talk to the press, of course, but I just thought… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like much of a life. Even when they have girlfriends, they’re not really public about it. Being with a guy, out in the open? Never going to happen. And living a huge lie doesn’t seem like it’d sit well with you.”

He pitches his voice higher, teasing now. “’Happy Valentine’s day, Courtney!’” he mimics, and Javi lets out an incredulous laugh, shoving him lightly. It’s been forever since that kiss and cry, and he’s embarrassed that Raya even remembers it.

“That was a long time ago,” he says, eyes full of mirth. “Damn, I was so young.” He suppresses a shudder, remembering the sappy moment when he’d stuck a foam heart behind his ear and wished his girlfriend a happy Valentine’s day at Sochi. 2014 is a distant memory by now-- he’s accomplished better things since then-- but he remembers that moment so clearly.

“Not that long ago,” Raya points out. “And besides, you were in love. Nothing wrong with showing it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Javi echoes, and Francesco chooses that moment to come up, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“So is it a _requirement_ that all figure skaters be incredibly good-looking, or is that just some sort of bonus?” he asks, and Raya lets out a chuckle.

“Oh, I like this one,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend.”

The conversation smooths out from there, and Raya carefully avoids all other mentions of Yuzu. The remainder of the night is light, carefree, and exactly what Javi had wanted from a party like this.

So why does he feel so _off_?

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Javi calls him.

Two days after Rostelecom, when he’s back in Toronto and all but driving himself crazy with his doctor-prescribed _rest_ , his phone rings.

Yuzu nearly drops it when he spots the name on the screen, inanely looking down to check what he’s wearing before realizing how stupid that is.

He takes the call, holding his cell up to his ear. “Javi?”

“ _Yuzu._ ” The concern in the other’s voice is palpable, even over the phone. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner. I read the news about Rostelecom just now. I-- I called as soon as I saw.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate; Yuzu knows how it must have looked, attending the medal ceremony on crutches. Had the situation been reversed, he would have dropped everything and called as well, ex-boyfriend or not.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “It’s same ankle again. It looks bad, but I’m okay. Just need rest. More rehab.”

“How long this time?”

“One month. Maybe more, maybe less,” he says. “I withdraw from Final, but I think I can make it for Nationals.”

His standing there will determine several assignments for the rest of the season, and while Yuzuru knows that he’s in the JSF’s good graces and they’ll make sure he has a spot at World’s even if he withdraws, he’s never been keen on being given a free ride.

“ _Yuzu..._ ” Javi’s voice is hesitant, as if he wants to make the case for more rest, but Yuzu cuts him off.

“I want to earn my place,” he says. “Not with… with _other_ things. But with my skating.”

There’s silence for a moment, then a quiet sigh. “I understand,” Javi says. “I hope your recovery goes well.”

“Thank you,” Yuzu says, and means it.

He gropes for something else to say, trying to get more than a handful of words from Javi, but they’re both walking on eggshells around each other, unsure as to how they can pick up the pieces of their partnership.

In the end, he goes the safe route, skirting away from any topic that might bring up their romantic relationship. He asks after Javi’s show and is genuinely happy when he tells him about the tickets selling out, and the persistent ache in his chest dulls to a quiet throb.

Yuzu manages to make it all the way to the end of the call, _after_ Javi has hung up, before he starts to cry.

He’s vaguely proud of himself for this.

* * *

**JAVIER.**

Javi accompanies Francesco to the airport the day after he finds out about Yuzuru’s injury, and when he gets back home, Laura looks up from the kitchen table with a smile.

“How was it?” she asks.

“Good,” he says. “He loves Spain but he’s excited to go back home. He’s got plenty of material for his next exhibit.”

“That’s nice,” Laura says. “But you know that’s not what I meant.”

Javi sighs. “I ended things,” he says. “A clean break seemed kinder. You know it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run.”

His sister is silent for a moment, and Javi looks up, meets her gaze. “You looked happy with him,” she says evenly. “I like seeing you happy.”

“I _was_ happy, because I didn’t have to hide anything,” Javi says. “It made me feel good, you know? But wanting that feeling… it’s not a good reason to be with someone. Not when it’s the only feeling there.”

“Oh.” Laura’s face falls. “You weren’t in love with him?”

Slowly, Javi shakes his head. “How could I be?” he asks.

He feels old, suddenly, tired beyond his years. As if the last month had been a pleasant daydream, and the conversation with Yuzuru yesterday had been his wake-up call to reality.

“Oh, Javi.” The expression on Laura’s face tells him everything he needs to know, and when she puts her arms around him, Javi hides his face in her shoulder and finally lets himself _cry_.

“I miss him so much,” he says, voice muffled in the fabric of her shirt. She pats his back and shushes him gently, the way she used to when he was a little boy, crying about how the other kids had made fun of him for skating. “Every time I’m on the ice, I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Laura doesn’t bother asking if he means Francesco; they both know he doesn’t. Instead, she holds her little brother through his tears and lets him cry until there’s nothing left-- only deep, dry sobs that shake his entire frame.

“I don’t know if I can do this without him.” His voice is a broken thing, hoarse and wounded, a mirror of Yuzu’s words in Pyeongchang. They hadn’t been anything like this, _not yet,_ but even back then, Yuzuru had already known what they could be. Mourning a loss so devastating that it had given Yuzu the courage to finally _act_ , catapulting them headlong into a relationship that neither of them were truly ready for.

It _hurts._

It hurts and _hurts_ but Javi finally lets himself _feel_ it for the first time since it ended, not in tiny increments during sleepless nights, not evading it with sex and distractions, but accepting the full breadth of his grief and sadness.

He doesn’t know if he can go on, and he says the words again, whispered miserably against Laura’s damp collar. He feels his sister shift, gently pushing him back so that she can hold his face in her small hands.

“Listen to me, Javier Fernandez,” she says. “Because I’m going to say this over and over until you believe it. You are a two-time World champion. You have _six_ European championship titles, and in January, _you will win your seventh._ You loved the ice long before you knew who Yuzuru Hanyu was, and you will continue to love the ice long after he retires.”

Her expression is earnest, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “You love him, I know, but it’s over now, and you need to pick yourself up and learn to live without him,” she continues. “You are more than just Yuzuru Hanyu’s training partner, and you _need_ to know that you’re so much more than his ex-boyfriend.’

‘I’m sorry I never told you enough, but I’m so proud of you, Javi. Don’t ever be ashamed of asking for what you need, _because you deserve to be happy_.”

* * *

**YUZURU.**

Rehab.

It’s bitter, painful work, but Yuzu grits his teeth and bears with it, pushing back his disappointment at missing the Grand Prix Final and focusing on the task at hand.

Nationals is still four weeks away, and he can make it if he follows instructions and _rests_.

He’s no stranger to this, had spent precious weeks of his break recuperating from pushing himself so hard at the Olympics, and Yuzu knows that if he’s disciplined and patient, he’ll get to where he needs to go.

With rest comes free time however, and he finds himself with an almost pathological compulsion to check his secret social media accounts, starved for more news about Javi.

Their call had served to remind him of the gaping hole in his life outside of skating, the stark contrast between his rehab now versus earlier on in the year. He finds himself thinking of the time that Javi had dropped everything and come to Sendai to see him, of how good it had felt to know that he’d cared enough to do so.

Yuzu misses him almost as much as he misses the ice, perhaps even _more so_ , because he knows that he’ll be reunited with the latter soon enough, but Javi is a question that he has no answer for.

He finds out that Javi is preparing for the last three Revolution stops from Javi’s Instagram, and he finds out that his boyfriend is back in Italy from Francesco’s.

Yuzu wonders idly how they make the long-distance thing work, wonders how they do it even as Javi’s pictures get pushed further and further down Francesco’s feed. They are soon replaced by other people, friends and family, artistic photos of local architecture.

The very last time Francesco posts about Javi, it’s a portrait collage. The surface piece is of Javi’s face, but it’s made up of dozens of smaller photographs, painstakingly cut out and transformed, held together with some sort of glossy emulsifier.

Yuzu looks closer and recognizes some of the smaller pieces of it; many of them are from Javi’s show, his body twisting in the air, arms extended. One photo in the corner makes up the outline of his collarbone, and Yuzuru realizes with a start that it’s Javier completely nude, body twisting _just so_ on the sheets that he’s lying on. His face isn’t visible but Yuzu would know him anywhere, drinking in the lines of his smooth skin, the jut of his hips.

‘ _L’Addio’_ the caption reads. And then below it: _‘(Farewell)’_.

 _So_ , Yuzu thinks. _You couldn’t keep him, either._

Oddly, knowing that Javier is alone again doesn’t make him feel any better. He privately messages Francesco then, praising him for his art, and asks if _‘L'Addio’_ is for sale. It takes a couple of days for Francesco to reply, but eventually he does, saying that it’s currently on exhibit but is still available.

Yuzu doesn’t want to think too hard about why he does it, but he makes arrangements to have it shipped to Canada once the exhibit is over.

It arrives right before he has to leave for Japan, and Yuzu takes the parcel and unwraps the layers of paper and foam, finally reaching the plain black box underneath. He takes it and props it up in the corner of his room, but doesn’t dare open it.

Somehow, he doesn’t feel like he has the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter this time, but hopefully it was worth the wait. XD This one was less difficult to write than the other two chapters in some respects, and more difficult in others, but overall I'm happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel. As always, happy to hear what you guys think! 
> 
> -This chapter was beta'd by the lovely eternalmurasaki; thank you very much! :D
> 
> -Photo manip by me; please don't post elsewhere without permission (though why would you? LOL).
> 
> -Javi and sleeping pills, anxiety, etc.; he has openly talked about taking sleeping pills to regulate his sleep and combat jetlag during competitions. Likewise, he has also discussed suffering a breakdown when he was around 19-20 years old, as well as having to go to a doctor about it and being diagnosed with anxiety.
> 
> -Japan Open, 2018 (full event):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHDn0Sutu-M  
> *The descriptions of Javi are exaggerated for the purposes of the fic; the score however, is real.
> 
> -Autumn Classic, 2018 (Yuzuru’s free skate):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsWdN-oKVFw
> 
> -Yuzuru’s injury during the Rostelecom Cup practice:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxOxPUP7YEo  
> *The fall and its aftermath happens towards the end of this video, around the last five minutes of it.
> 
> -In reality, Yuzuru’s injury at Rostelecom 2018 precluded him from competing anywhere else that year, withdrawing from both the Grand Prix Final and Japan Nationals. I’ve revised his attendance to the latter competition for the purposes of this fic, which will be explained in the final chapter.
> 
> -For anyone interested in visualizing Francesco’s art, I thought of Raoul Hausmann’s work as my baseline. Francesco’s collage style is similar, though the final effect is less frightening and more sensual.  
> http://www.artnet.com/artists/raoul-hausmann/fiat-modes-p-1m8X-X2ELhrQSWAnwaXQ2
> 
> -The model I used for Francesco’s picture is Diego Barrueco; he was the right age and looked like he could be in the arts, especially with his tattoos. :)  
> *This is the last we hear of this particular character, but it amuses me to think that he and Raya meet again in the future by coincidence and start dating. They seem like they’d be great fun together. XD
> 
> ———-
> 
> October 22, 2020
> 
> EDIT: This fic is currently on HIATUS. I don’t intend to abandon it, but please note that the last chapter is on the backburner as I try to cope with my life during this pandemic. I hope you are all safe and sound; I will try to be back when I can. Thank you all for reading. ❤️


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